Three For the Price of One
by Raine Is Crazy
Summary: Sixth year. Due to the incompetence of that cowtoad Umbridge, Hogwarts has a new DADA professor. In fact, there are three of them. Throw in a giant cat, an evil overlord, and shampoo for Snape, and the students are in for one hell of a year.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Don't own it. Shut up. Only the plot is mine. And some original characters. And the list goes on. And just to note this: this chapter's disclaimer counts for ALL future chapters too, because writing disclaimers is TEDIOUS (boring).  
  
*~*~*A/N: The characters you don't recognize are MIIIIIIINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *grins evilly* HAH! Mine. Now read story.*~*~*  
  
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The old man wet his quill with ink, and began to write, bending close over the parchment in the dim light. He sighed, gestured with his hand, and the lamp on his desk brightened. There. That was better. He continued writing, pausing at odd moments to consider the next word or phrase, and then went on.  
  
After a few minutes he held up the parchment under the lamp and read what he had written.  
  
My Dear Friends,  
  
Greetings. I hope you have been well since I last saw you. It's been years since we last spoke, I know, but I trust things have gone well for you.  
  
I am now Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, if you hadn't heard. It is a wonderful experience and I am greatly enjoying this career. Much better, in my opinion, than teaching a class such as Transfiguration, if only for the reason that I do not have to deal with the hassles of things such as homework.  
  
I realize that we have not seen each other for quite a while, but I have a favour to ask of you. First, in no way are you being forced to oblige. But the position of Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts has been vacated once again at Hogwarts and I was wondering if you would care to teach the students here for a year or two.  
  
I should also inform you that the Lord Voldemort has returned in full and has been publicly exposed. The wizarding world is in uproar and I would greatly appreciate your assistance.  
  
Please notify me at once with your responses.  
  
Most Sincerely,  
  
Albus Dumbledore  
  
Dumbledore straightened and nodded, satisfied. He tapped his wand onto the parchment, muttered something, and two more identical copies of the same letter appeared on the desk in front of him. He rolled them up and fastened them with his personal seal.  
  
He whistled.  
  
A glorious, red- and gold-plumed phoenix turned its graceful head towards the old man. He smiled at it, and beckoned with his crooked finger. It swooped across the room and lighted on his arm, gently rubbing its beak against his hair affectionately. He tied the three parchments to its leg, and it took off from his shoulder, flying around the circular room.  
  
"I have a task for you, old friend."  
  
The phoenix crooned its wondrous song, and Dumbledore smiled even wider. He gestured a complex design with his fingers and a portal appeared over the fireplace – a swirling, weaving hole of dark smokes and magics.  
  
The phoenix trilled once, and flew straight into it. The portal and all traces of it disappeared right after. Dumbledore crossed to the window and stared out. He hoped that they would come.  
  
If they didn't ... he had no one else to ask to teach the position. But if they did ... he smiled slightly.  
  
It would be an interesting year. 


	2. We Accept

*~*~*A/N: Sorry if it takes me reeeeeeeeeeeally long times to update in between chapters ... you see I only write them when I'm at my friend's house! Yes, yes, I hear all of your cries for "GO TO YOUR FRIEND'S HOUSE!!!!!!!!!" and I SHALL!!!!!!! Okay byebye now READ ON and enjoy!!!!!!! And REVIEW at any cost.*~*~*  
  
Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter. Wish I did. Don't own "Into the West" featuring Annie Lennox, either. Wish I did that too.  
  
Okay, look, this chapter is really short too, I'm sorry!!!!!! Really I am. But I'm already working on the next one, which WILL BE LONGER!!!!!!!!! I SWEAR!!!!!!!!  
  
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Lay down  
  
Your sweet and weary head  
  
Night is falling  
  
You have come to journey's end  
  
~*~  
  
Harry Potter frowned into his pillow. The radio had turned on. It must be six o' clock. He groaned. Why should he care what time of day it was when Sirius wouldn't ever know?  
  
~*~  
  
Sleep now  
  
And dream of the ones who came before  
  
They are calling  
  
From across a distant shore  
  
~*~  
  
He lifted up his head and glared at the small radio beside his bed.  
  
~*~  
  
Safe in my arms, you're only sleeping  
  
What can you see  
  
On the horizon  
  
Why do the white gulls call  
  
~*~  
  
He slammed his hand down on the 'off' button and the room went silent once more. Harry rolled his eyes. How dare that song play over the radio when he was trying to rest?  
  
For a few minutes Harry tossed and turned, attempting to get back to sleep. Try as he might, it was useless. Grumbling under his breath about radios that were too full of themselves, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and tossed off the covers. He grabbed his glasses from the bedside table and placed them on his nose, rubbing his eyes behind the lenses.  
  
He clumsily got dressed, throwing on a very baggy, torn pair of faded jeans that had once belonged to Dudley. He rolled up the immense sleeves of an old sweatshirt, and trudged downstairs.  
  
Yawning, Harry opened up the fridge. Before the Dursleys all got up was one of the only times he could do whatever he wanted, and right now he wanted an apple. Grabbing one that was as green as his eyes, he took it outside and sat on the back porch.  
  
The sun's rays blossomed over the rooftops of the houses on Magnolia Crescent a few streets down, and went straight into Harry's face. He looked away so as not to blind himself.  
  
"BOY!"  
  
There came a roar from inside the house. It seemed as though Uncle Vernon was awake.  
  
"GET MY COFFEE READY!"  
  
Harry sighed and finished his apple, tossing it away into the garbage as he went into the kitchen.  
  
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At the same time, but worlds away, three letters carried by a scarlet-and- golden phoenix were delivered and opened.  
  
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The kettle whistled. Harry poured the steaming hot coffee into a mug and brought it upstairs. He paused outside his own room. Why was he doing this? Uncle Vernon was perfectly capable of getting his own coffee. And besides, hadn't his friends promised to give his uncle a hard time if ever he wasn't treating Harry right?  
  
Harry nodded to himself and walked into his room. The coffee was just the way he liked it.  
  
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Worlds away, as he took that sip, three people looked up at a scarlet phoenix and said two words aloud.  
  
"We accept." 


	3. A Slightly Awkward Morning

*~*~*A/N: Now then, on with the story.*~*~*  
  
Disclaimer: Applies to all future chapters as well: DON'T OWN 'EM. Jeez, you'd think on FanFiction people would have LEARNED by now that no one on here thinks they own these characters!!!!!!! Jeez ...  
  
By the way, I warn you now, I'm really hyper and TOTALLY in love with Harry.  
  
WARNING: SCENES OF SLIGHTY-INAPPROPRIATE-NESS  
  
Younger children KEEP OUT!  
  
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CRACK!  
  
Harry sat bolt upright, eyes flying open. Fred and George had Apparated onto Ron's bed, across the room from Harry. They were now jumping on Ron's legs, laughing as their younger brother swore at them.  
  
"It's September first, Ron, time to get up," they were saying. Harry checked his watch and groaned: eight-fifteen. He swung his legs off the bed and put on his pants, as he'd been sleeping in his boxers. Suddenly he heard Hermione chanting TAKE THEM OFF! TAKE THEM OFF! TAKE THEM OFF!  
  
She peeked into his room eagerly, but unfortunately saw nothing.  
  
(A/N: I'm KIDDING, okay? Let's start over.)  
  
CRACK!  
  
Harry sat bolt upright, eyes flying open. Fred and George had Apparated onto Ron's bed, across the room from Harry. They were now jumping on Ron's legs, laughing as their younger brother swore at them.  
  
"It's September first, Ron, time to get up," they were saying. Harry checked his watch and groaned: eight-fifteen. He swung his legs off the bed and put on his glasses, rubbing his LOVELY ASS!!!!!! (A/N: Sorry.) ... rubbing his eyes.  
  
He ran his fingers through his consistently messy hair and walked out of the room, going down the hall to the bathroom. As he shut the door, he thought about Sirius, completely unaware that there were teenage girls everywhere across the globe crying for him to take off his clothes. He shook his head. Where had that thought come from? Damn author. (Sorry, folks, I really can't help it.)  
  
Harry grabbed a towel and turned on the shower. Feeling the water with his hand, it was kind of cold, but he really didn't mind. He always got the shower last at Privet Drive, and so was used to the cold water ON HIS LOVELY SKIN!!!!!!!!  
  
He stepped in and shut the curtain.  
  
He vaguely heard banging, but assumed that it was the ghoul in the attic. When he'd finished in the shower, he checked to see that no one else was in the room, and then stepped out.  
  
At that moment, the door banged open and in stormed Hermione, who was saying loudly, "... Been in here for nearly fifteen min- oh! OH!"  
  
Harry yelled.  
  
Hermione clapped a hand over her eyes and threw a towel at him, which he grabbed and wrapped around his waist. She ran out, screaming "Sorry, sorry, sorry!" over her shoulder.  
  
Harry was incredibly red in the face by now and yelled as she slammed the door behind her, "Don't DO THAT!!!!!!!"  
  
Outside, Hermione leant against the wall for support, also incredibly red in the face. Ron strolled down the hall with a suitcase in his hand. He looked oddly at her.  
  
"What are you all red for?"  
  
"NEVER YOU MIND!!!!!!!!!!" Hermione screamed, turning redder by the second. Ron shrugged.  
  
"Fine," he said, and went on down the stairs. Then the bathroom door opened a crack, and Harry peeked out carefully. Seeing Ron and Hermione, he jerked back inside and slammed it shut again. Ron stared at the door.  
  
"Uh ..."  
  
"Don't ask," warned Hermione. As Ron thought, a large grin spread slowly across his face.  
  
"You – you – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" he laughed suddenly, pointing at Hermione. "You saw – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You saw Harry – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! You saw Harry in his – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOU SAW HARRY IN HIS NUDEY-PANTS! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!"  
  
Hermione turned an even darker shade of red and raised a hand to slap Ron. "SHUT UP!" Ron shut his mouth, but laughed silently, turning away and going quickly down the stairs. As soon as he was out of her sight, she heard a loud snort from the stairwell.  
  
Ginny came running down right after him. "Hermione! Have you seen Harry?"  
  
"HELL YES! TOO MUCH!"  
  
"... What?"  
  
"Nevermind!!! What was your question?"  
  
"Wait – you – you – HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEEHEHEHEHE! You saw him in his HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE nudey-pants! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH ... hey, no fair."  
  
There was a loud exclamation from the bathroom at this last remark. "WHAT?!?!"  
  
Ginny gasped. "He's in THERE? Oh ..." The girls both walked away quickly, Ginny mouthing, "Tell me everything!"  
  
Harry dared to peek out again. He looked three times in both directions, and no one was there. He opened the door further and stepped out carefully, clad in a bright canary-yellow towel around his waist. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard footsteps coming up.  
  
"Oh, Harry, you're up!" cried Mrs. Weasley. Harry stared, horrified, for a moment, then stumbled backwards. "Awww, aren't you cute with your little six-pack!" she said, pinching his side. As he backed away, the towel nearly fell off, but not quite. "Oh, you're so thin, Harry! We need to get some food into y–"  
  
Harry yelled with fright and horror and took off up the stairs, bright canary-yellow towel and all. Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "What did I say?"  
  
As soon as Harry reached the safety of his and Ron's room, he slammed the door shut, and locked it, sagging against the wall and clutching his bright canary-yellow towel to him. He very nearly cried when he heard banging on the door behind him.  
  
"GO AWAY! I'M GETTING DRESSED!" he roared. He heard a small gasp from outside, and feet scampering away. He rolled his eyes. Girls.  
  
Downstairs, Ron asked his mother why he'd heard yelling from upstairs. She shrugged. "I don't know, dear – OH, that was Harry. Nice choice of towel he picked, too."  
  
Ron's mouth fell open. "You – you – HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" 


	4. Arrival

*~*~*A/N: READ AND REVIEW!!!!!!!*~*~*  
  
Enjoy! You'll laugh before the end of the chapter, I PROMISE.  
  
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The Weasleys, Harry and Hermione all poured out of the Ministry cars and into King's Cross Station. (A/N: How many Weasleys are left at Hogwarts, anyway? Let's see, Bill and Charlie finished a while ago, Percy's graduated, Fred and George rode off into the sunset on their brooms one day, with their shirts blowing and hair whipping in the wind ... sorry, short little fantasy there, and that leaves Ron and Ginny. HOLY CRAP, THERE ARE ONLY TWO LEFT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) They all had their trunks with them, and Hedwig's cage was balanced on top of his. Crookshanks rode atop Hermione's shoulder.  
  
Harry checked his watch again: ten fifty-two. They had eight minutes to get aboard. Plenty of time.  
  
Harry and Hermione ran through the barrier first, followed by Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and Ron. Ginny was last to run through. Most unfortunately, as she ran through, none other than Mister-makes-you-want-to-piss-in-his-face Draco Malfoy walked in front of the barrier. The hard-haired blond and the small redhead's lips connected.  
  
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!" they both yelled as loud as they could. Malfoy spit on the ground. Ginny spit in his face. "YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE – WEASEL!" he yelled, and Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes as they grabbed onto Ron's cloak as the tall redhead struggled to get at Malfoy.  
  
Anyway, back to the main characters.  
  
They all boarded the Hogwarts Express, waving goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as they got on. Harry, Hermione and Ron found a compartment of their own and heard the Weasley parents talking through the window.  
  
"Oh, isn't it SWEET? My only daughter just had her first kiss!" Ron's mother was gushing. "Or at least, I THINK it was her first ..."  
  
"It better damn well be," growled Mr. Weasley.  
  
And NOW, back to the main characters!  
  
The Golden Trio laughed their heads off at Mr. Weasley's remark. They all knew that it wasn't. But who really cared? BACK TO THE STORYLINE ... (A/N: Yes, there IS actually a plot here. It's buried under that last page of crap somewhere ... wait, just let me look for it ... AHA! Got it! *gasp* OH NO, THE PILE'S COMING DOWN ON ME! EEK! *runs away*)  
  
Five minutes later, the train started moving, and everyone yelled their last goodbyes to the people waving on the station platform. Then the thousand-odd students settled back into their seats and braced themselves for the long ride ahead.  
  
An hour after they left, Ron got up. He excused himself gallantly, saying that he had to visit the bathrooms. Harry and Hermione rolled their eyes at each other, knowing quite well that he'd gone off to make sure Ginny wasn't doing anything he disapproved of. When Hermione said so, Ron sniffed, stuck his nose in the air, and walked out in a huff.  
  
"You know, he's acting like a bit of a girl," said Harry.  
  
Hermione growled at him. "I resent that!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
Suddenly, the train gave a rather large jolt as it ran over a log on the tracks, no doubt put there by some mischievous pixie in hopes that the train would crash. Fat chance of that happening, thought Harry as he lurched forward.  
  
Suddenly, before anyone knew what was happening, Harry's face had crashed into Hermione's chest. She shrieked.  
  
"GET OUT OF MY BOOBS! GET OUT OF MY BOOBS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and slapped him away.  
  
Neither one looked at the other in the eye for about five whole minutes after that.  
  
During that time, Harry stared about the compartment, determinedly NOT looking at her – her – chestatial area. Ron came back.  
  
"Hullo, I'm back," he said. No one answered. "Hello?" he said, louder, waving a hand in front of Harry's face. "Are you there?"  
  
"What? Eh? Who? Okay," said Harry, blinking. Hermione blinked too, and noticed the tall redhead standing there.  
  
Ron sat down across from Harry. They were each sitting with their backs to a different wall, facing the middle of the compartment. Ron glanced between them and raised his eyebrows at Harry, who had his hands over his face and his eyes only just showing through his fingers. He was muttering something.  
  
"What's that, mate?" Ron leaned closer.  
  
"Squishy ... soft and – squishy ..."  
  
"I don't get it. What's soft and squishy?" Ron said aloud. Hermione gasped, looked at Harry, glared at Ron, and slapped Harry.  
  
"How dare you say that about my – WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?!" she cried to Ron, who was looking at her – chestatial area.  
  
"Where'd you get THOSE?"  
  
"Get what?"  
  
"BOOBS!"  
  
Hermione slapped him. "HOW DARE YOU! And it's a complex process called adolescence, if you want me to explain it I'll –"  
  
"Soft and squishy ... soft and squishy ..."  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
She slapped him again. He curled up into the fetal position on the seat and rocked back and forth, muttering to himself. "Soft and squishy ... soft and squishy ..."  
  
Harry suddenly had a thought. When HAD Hermione gotten – hills and valleys in her – chestatial area? Harry glanced over across the compartment at Ron, who was still staring at Hermione's – chestatial area. Apparently they'd been thinking along the same wavelink.  
  
Hermione suddenly rolled her eyes in exasperation and tipped both their heads up. "Okay, I'm up HERE, okay? Yeah, thank you," she snapped, tilting their chins so that they couldn't look down. "Humph."  
  
~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~*~**~  
  
When they arrived in Hogsmeade hours later, none of the "Golden Trio" were speaking to each other. They were far too embarrassed.  
  
As they climbed into a carriage drawn by the starved-looking Thestrals, Ginny walked up with a toothbrush working furiously in her mouth. All three looked at her.  
  
"Just how long have you been doing that?"  
  
"In aygo igth muh," she said, nodding. The Golden Trio glanced at each other for the first time in hours, and looked away quickly.  
  
"Um – what?"  
  
Ginny spat into the cup she was carrying. "Since Malfoy kissed me," she said quickly, and continued brushing. Suddenly Hermione pointed behind the smaller girl.  
  
"Look out."  
  
Ginny felt someone come up behind her and take a great sniff of her hair. She spun around, wide-eyed, and saw Malfoy grinning. And she spit. In his face. Again. This time with toothpaste.  
  
"AUGH!" he yelled, and walked off in a huff, nose in the air. Ginny narrowed her eyes and brushed even more furiously, clambering into the carriage with the Golden Trio as the Thestrals started moving.  
  
~*~  
  
Twenty minutes later, as they all sat down at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall, chattering happily and being glad to be back, McGonagall walked in, followed by the new first years. Harry cheered along with the rest of them when a Gryffindor was called, and otherwise didn't pay much attention to the Sorting ceremony. Too much ... on his mind. Throughout the whole time, he didn't say a word to Hermione. Neither did Ron, he noticed.  
  
Harry glanced up at the Head Table and noticed that there were three empty chairs. One, he knew, was reserved for this year's Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. But he didn't see anyone else missing from the staff. He nudged Ron with his elbow, and whispered, "Who d' you reckon is going to fill those seats?"  
  
Ron shrugged and was about to reply when Dumbledore rose to his feet and clapped his hands twice. Silence fell, and heads turned up towards the Head Table.  
  
"I have an important announcement to make, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "As you all know, we are in need of yet another Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher here at Hogwarts. Luckily, I have found not one, but three suitable –"  
  
At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall burst open with a large bang. 


	5. The Neverending Announcements

A/N: Hi all!!! Sorry for my little moments of overwhelming crush-on-a- fictional-character-ness in the last chapter (friend and myself go sigh), but it can't be helped ... he's just so ... okay I won't get into that.  
  
Sorry for not updating in long times but I only write at my friend's house (Rogue Elf on FictionPress, go check her out too), so sorry!!!!  
  
Kay THANKS for reviewing, I love you all SO MUCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D:D  
  
I'd just like to mention my friend Meaghan, a.k.a Rogue Elf, who is helping me write this story, and deserves MUCH CREDIT FOR THIS STORY AHHH MEG STOP BANGING ME ON THE HEAD FOR NOT MENTIONING YOU BEFORE AHHH STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OKAY OKAY OKAY!!!!!!!! GRRR! OW!  
  
THANKS for that ... yeah anyways ...  
  
Kay so on with the story, because I know you're all DYING to see what happens next after the door banged open in the Great Halls, so ... yeah. READ ON AND REVIEW!!!!!!  
  
The doors to the Great Hall burst open with a large bang.  
  
All heads whipped around to face them, eyes wide with anticipation. "Ah yes, this must be them now ..." said Dumbledore, nodding. Everyone in the Hall seemed to be holding their breath, staring expectantly at the doors ...  
  
And three mice squeaked their way into the giant room, looked around, and ran for cover under the Hufflepuff table.  
  
Dumbledore frowned slightly. "Ah. Well, you never know the strength of mice ... yes ... well ..."  
  
A wave of murmurs and titters swept through the Hall as everyone said to the people around them, "That was odd."  
  
Professor Sprout cleared her throat. "Settle down, students, settle down, it was naught but the wind. Mr. Longbottom, please close the doors, there's a boy. Thank you."  
  
Neville Longbottom scurried over to the doors, red-faced, and shut them, hurrying back, to the Gryffindor table as quick as he could. Dumbledore raised his hands for silence. "As I was saying before I was – interrupted by the – mice," he cleared his throat, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes, "I have found not one, but three suitable people to fill the position of Defense Ag–"  
  
The doors to the Great Hall burst open with a large bang again.  
  
Everyone turned around in their seats, looking at the doors, and nothing was there but a few rays of moonlight shining through the Entrance Hall. Then a single leaf floated in on a slight breeze. Everyone's eyes followed it in its slow descent to the floor, and then as it softly came to rest.  
  
Dumbledore raised one eyebrow. "Hmm. That's ... interesting ... funny, those doors ..."  
  
"Bloody hell, what's going on?" Ron asked in an undertone. Hermione looked reproachfully at him.  
  
"Ron!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"... Good question."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes as Dumbledore raised his hands again for silence over the murmurs and whispers of the students and teachers alike. "Ahem. Excuse me, but there seems to be a problem with the doors. Mr. Malfoy, if you wouldn't mind closing them?"  
  
Harry smirked as Malfoy got up across the hall, sending dark looks at the High Table and muttering to himself. Harry caught a few words as he passed by.  
  
"... Not a bloody bellhop ..."  
  
With a thud, the blond-haired Slytherin shut the doors once again, and turned away to go back to his seat when –  
  
BOOM!  
  
"AHHH!!!"  
  
Malfoy flew across the room and crash-landed onto one of the Gryffindor girls as the Great Hall doors burst open once more behind him. This time there were three dark-robed figures standing in the doorway, framed by the moonlight in the Entrance Hall. The one to the far left had flames flickering all around the bottom of his red robes, while the one on the right had vines crawling all over his dark green ones. The one in the middle was shrouded in shadows, and by his feet stood a very large, winged, fanged, and clawed black jaguar.  
  
The three of them stood there, faces hidden by black hoods, for a few seconds. Then they started walking forwards, between the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor tables, straight down the Great Hall towards the High Table, still hidden by their billowing cloaks. Two low, deep voices started muttering a song. It echoed loudly in the dead-silent hall.  
  
Harry suddenly had a flashback.  
  
When he was nine years old and Aunt Marge was over, he had been forced to come downstairs, be insulted, and watch a Muggle movie. That movie happened to have been called "Star Wars," and he remembered a certain character with a billowing black cape and a shiny black helmet who seemed to be constantly followed by a piece of theme music that went just like the song that someone was singing in the Hall just now.  
  
"Dum dum dum dum da dum dum da dum. Dum dum dum dum da dum dum da dum. DUM dum DUM dum da dadada dum dum dum da dadada dum dum dum da dum dum da dum."  
  
(A/N: Who could forget Darth Vader?)  
  
There was suddenly two slaps and two "Ow!"'s coming from the Slytherin table. The dum-ing stopped.  
  
"Crabbe! Goyle! Shut up!" came a distinctive female voice. There was no mistaking it; Pansy Parkinson.  
  
Harry and Ron snorted, and for a second, Harry could have sworn that the green-clad figure had snorted as well. He shook his head and put it out of his mind.  
  
The three figures arrived at the High Table, climbed up behind it, and sat down in the three empty seats, flinging off their hoods in the process. Mouths dropped all over the Hall.  
  
Three girls – women – were revealed underneath.  
  
Clad in red was a brown-eyed lady with dark brown hair, streaked with red, that curled down, touching her shoulders. The one in dark green and blue had the longest hair of the three, light brown and slightly wavy. Vines were woven into the locks, and her blue eyes stood out from her face. The third lady had shoulder-length black hair with purple streaks in the front, framing her face. Her eyes were gray, with hints of green and blue melded in as well. All three looked to be around the age of seventeen or so.  
  
The very large, winged, fanged, and clawed black jaguar sat at her feet.  
  
The Hall was still silent, all the boys' jaws were still dropped, the three mice were still hiding under the Hufflepuff table, and the single leaf still rested on the floor by the open doors. Dumbledore stood, raising his hands for silence, although it was far from needed.  
  
"Ahem. Well. It appears that our new professors have arrived. Before I continue, Mr. Malfoy, could you please rein in your hormones and get off of Miss Weasley?"  
  
Many heads swiveled to look at the Gryffindor table, though most of the boys still stared at the three new teachers. Malfoy was sitting on Ginny, looking quite out cold. The redhead looked up at her friends, who were looking at her in horror, and said quietly, "Help!"  
  
Malfoy stirred and sat up, rubbing his head. "Ouch ... who hit me?"  
  
"Oh yeah ... sorry about that," said the woman in green from the High Table in a British accent, finally speaking. Ron snorted.  
  
Malfoy got up and stalked, very red in the face, across the Hall to the Slytherin table as Ginny got out her toothbrush again. There were a few laughs and giggles, but not many, because most of the students were still staring at the three new professors, who were, corny as it sounds, stunning.  
  
"Thank you," said Dumbledore. "Now, please allow me to introduce you all to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. Fiora," he said, and the one in red stood up, flashing a brilliant smile around at the students. One of the boys at the Hufflepuff table actually fell off the bench backwards as she did so, and many others drooled.  
  
"Dakira."  
  
The woman in the middle, dressed in black and purple, nodded at the hall, no trace of a smile on her face. "It's Darkira."  
  
"Yes. Dakira."  
  
"Darkira!"  
  
"Yes, Dakira!"  
  
"Pronounce the 'r', Albus!" she screeched, half-rising out of her chair. Dumbledore sighed and said it correctly.  
  
The boys at the Slytherin table looked up at her with admiration and liking showing in their faces. A couple drooled.  
  
"Please do excuse me for the mispronunciation, Darkira," he said, bowing. She merely glared at him and sat back down slowly, petting her overlarge cat's head. Harry, down at the Gryffindor table, could have sworn that the Headmaster turned slightly – very slightly – a little pink with embarrassment, but it quickly disappeared. He then said the third name.  
  
"Astaria."  
  
The woman in dark green robes stood up, smiling at the students in the Hall. "Hello, all," she said prettily, and more boys got huge silly grins on their faces. More than one drooled. She sat back down and curled up sideways in her chair, still smiling.  
  
Dumbledore coughed politely, and got the attention of half the students in the Hall again. The male half couldn't seem to tear their eyes away from the three professors, so Dumbledore gave up on it after three more polite coughs.  
  
"Now that we have all been introduced, let us proceed with the Sorting."  
  
Ron's stomach grumbled as he groaned. "I'm starving! Why can't we eat first?"  
  
"Ron, the Sorting is very important. Why are you always thinking about your stomach?" Hermione said sternly to him. Harry rolled his eyes; here they went again.  
  
"Do not," said Ron.  
  
"You do!"  
  
"I do not!"  
  
"Oh, don't be so immature and deny it!"  
  
"Oh, I'm immature?!"  
  
At that, Professor McGonagall came into the Great Hall, followed by the tiny new first years, looking terrified as always. The stool was brought out and the ratty old Sorting Hat placed upon it, and a silence fell just before it broke out into song.  
  
After the first line, the woman in red – Fiora – clapped her hands. "Oh, the hat sings!" she exclaimed in delight. Her companions – Darkira and Astaria – glared at her and hissed "Shut up!" to her as the hat continued singing. It sounded slightly disgruntled to Harry after that, however.  
  
When it had finished, the Hall burst into applause, and it bowed to all four tables, stood up straight, and was still again. McGonagall read out the first name off her scroll.  
  
"Alton, George!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Aguilar, Sonia!"  
  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
  
In between "Parker, Hallie" and "Pittleson, Louise," Ron groaned from hunger again. Hermione shot him a dark look and it shut him up temporarily.  
  
When all the first years were sorted, Dumbledore stood up once more. "As I know you are all dying to tuck in, I must say, please do so."  
  
Everyone fell upon the food as it appeared on the golden plates, especially Ron. The feast was very enjoyable, but nearly every boy from every house kept glancing back up at the High Table to sneak looks at the three new professors. Darkira was hunched slightly over her food, as if to protect it from anyone who might be looking to steal it from her. Harry noticed that Fiora was doing the same thing. When he looked at Astaria, clad in green, he saw that she wasn't hunched over ... but each time the person next to her – Professor Sinistra – so much as looked at Astaria's plate, a vine appeared in her hand, looking ready for use.  
  
Once everyone had finished eating and the plates had cleared to their original, sparkling state, Dumbledore rose to his feet again.  
  
"I know that you are all very full and quite sleepy ..."  
  
Ron and Harry looked hopeful.  
  
"... But I'm afraid I have a few more announcements to make before I send you all up to bed." There were groans all throughout the Hall. Dumbledore smiled. "For the first years, I'd like to make it clear that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students – including sixth years."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione grinned.  
  
"Also, Mr. Filch has asked me to tell you that there is no magic in the corridors, and that most products from a certain recently-established joke shop are not permitted in the corridors, either. If you wish to see the complete list of items not allowed here, please make your way to Mr. Filch's office on the second floor." His eyes twinkled. "Also, there is an announcement about an organization that was established last year during Professor Umbridge's stay here."  
  
There were loud mutters and growls all throughout the Hall. At the High Table, the black winged cat of Darkira's hissed.  
  
"It is an organization started by three enthusiastic fifth years, now in their sixth year, and it is a program for students of all ages who wish to have extra time practicing Defense Against the Dark Arts. Its name is the DA, short for the Defense Association, and it is open to all students from every house. It will be supervised by our new Professors, Darkira, Fiora, and Astaria, and will be held in the Room of Requirement every Wednesday night at seven o' clock," Dumbledore announced. "Any student that wishes to come is welcome."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione were all grinning widely.  
  
"Now, I know that you are all very tired, so off to bed with you. Chop chop!"  
  
Everyone got to their feet, stretching, and as Ron and Hermione went over to the first years to show them the way up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry made his way out of the hall on his own, throwing one last look over his shoulder at the three ladies seated at the High Table.  
  
This was going to be an interesting year. 


	6. Morning After

A/N: Hello again!! Don't you just love me because I updated SO SOON?!?!?!?! lol YAY! :D hehe 'kay ...  
  
THANX FOR REVIEWING, I LUV U ALL!!!!!!! :D  
  
And btw, /this/ is in italics, since it doesn't show up, 'kay? And ::this:: is thoughts. Byebyesz now, read and review!!!!  
  
Inward and upward!!!!!!!!!

Harry yawned and stretched, not opening his eyes. He didn't want to get up. His bed was so warm and comfortable ... he yawned again. He'd had a bit of a restless night.  
  
He reluctantly swung his legs off the bed and put on his glasses, rubbing his eyes. The dream that had haunted him all summer long had visited him again last night.Dream  
  
_"Harry!"  
  
He was all alone in a world of inky blackness. Unable to move, he strained to hear the voice calling him.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Pictures slowly faded into Harry's view.  
  
He looked around and saw Sirius battling with Bellatrix Lestrange on a raised platform. Cedric Diggory was lying dead at Wormtail's feet, just meters away from them. Cho Chang lay on the ground beside him, also dead. Six Death Eaters, who were advancing on his friends with their wands raised, cornered Ron and Hermione. Harry still couldn't move, only watch as the scene in front of him unfolded.  
  
"HARRY!"  
  
He saw Sirius fall backwards and through the fluttering gray veil. Bellatrix laughed. Voldemort appeared out of nowhere, and leveled his wand at Harry.  
  
There was a blinding flash of green light, and everything turned instantly back to the inky blackness that had surrounded him before ..._  
  
DreamHarry shook his head to clear it, and pulled on his clothes, going down to the common room.  
  
Hermione was sitting at a table in front of the fire, reading a book. Harry checked his watch groggily, and saw that it was only half past six in the morning. He groaned, mentally kicking himself for getting up so early for nothing.  
  
Hermione's head jerked up at the sudden noise. "Who's there?" she said sharply. "Oh – good morning, Harry," she said. "You're up early."  
  
"Believe me, I didn't plan to be," he said, coming over and plunking himself down onto the couch by the fire. "What are you reading, _Hogwarts, A History_ again?"  
  
"_No_, I'm reading a very interesting book on house elves, actually."  
  
"Not starting up with _spew_ again, are you, Hermione?"  
  
"I never stopped, Harry, you know that. Now, if you're going to make fun of it again, I don't want to hear it. You can go sit over _there_ if you want to."  
  
"No, I wasn't going to make fun of it, just –"  
  
"Laugh at it."  
  
"No! I was just _asking_, jeez ..."  
  
"Well, good." With that, Hermione turned back to her book. Harry shrugged and stared into the fire, feeling bored and tired. He heard a slight sniff from beside him, and glanced sideways at her. He noticed for the first time that morning that her eyes were slightly red, as though she had been crying.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." She lowered her face a little, so that it was half-hidden behind her book. She didn't meet his gaze.  
  
"Fine," he said, and turned back to the fire, though he watched her out of the corner of his eye. She sniffed quietly again, and casually rubbed her eyes as though they itched, although Harry thought he saw a tear glisten behind her hand.  
  
"Come on, what's the matter?" he asked.  
  
"I said _nothing_," she said from behind her book. She seemed determined not to let on what was wrong. Harry gently put the book down onto the table. She looked away, letting her hair cover her face so that he couldn't see her. He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, trying to get into her field of vision.  
  
"_Helloooo_ ... is anyone home?" he asked, grinning. She didn't answer nor smile. He sighed. "Come on, Hermione, what's wrong? You can tell me."  
  
"Ron and I had a fight last night after you went to bed," she said in a would-be steady and careless voice.  
  
"So? You two fight all the time."  
  
"It was _awful_, Harry. You should have heard us going at it."  
  
"What were you on about this time?"  
  
"Our Prefect duties."  
  
"Sounds stupid enough to me."  
  
"It _was_, but that's not the point. He was in such a bad mood, I don't know why. He didn't help me take all the first years up here, and afterwards I told him he was shirking off on his duties, and he just said that they could find their way up on their own, and I told him off, and he yelled at me, and we had a row."  
  
Harry looked at her. "Sounds to me like a lot of your other fights."  
  
"He – he called me a bushy-haired bookworm-ish know-it-all teacher's pet."  
  
"_Ron_?"  
  
"Yes, Ron! And right in front of all the first years and everyone else in the common room! I was so mad at him ... I still _AM_ mad at him!"  
  
"Ron wouldn't say that ... it's more like something Malfoy would say."  
  
"That's why it upset me."  
  
"Oh."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, and Hermione picked up her book again, sniffing slightly. After a few minutes, she said, "You're going to take his side, aren't you?"  
  
"No, of course not, he shouldn't have called you that."  
  
"You _always_ take his side when we fight. Well, the both of you can go jump in the lake with the giant squid, for all I care!"  
  
"What did I do now? It's not _my_ fault Ron –"  
  
"And now you're getting all defensive, and I didn't even do anything but tell Ron to do his work as a school Prefect!"  
  
"I'm _not_ getting defensive!"  
  
"There you go again! Why do I even bother telling you my problems?! It's no use!"  
  
"Hermione, stop being such a –"  
  
"A what?! A bushy-haired –"  
  
"No –"  
  
"– bookworm-ish know-it-all –"  
  
"Hermione –"  
  
"– teacher's pet?!"  
  
"HERMIONE! Stop it, you know I wasn't going to –"  
  
Hermione was on her feet, fists clenched and eyes red. "You can both go and _drown_ yourselves!" With that, she threw down her book and stormed back up to the girls' dormitories, leaving Harry on the couch staring after her. He shook his head and sighed, flopping back onto the couch cushions and closing his eyes.

An hour and a half later, Gryffindors coming down to the common room awakened Harry form his short sleep. He sat up groggily and rubbed his eyes, yawning. Ron, Dean and Seamus came down the stairs, talking to each other animatedly about the three new professors. Listening to other conversations around the room, Harry realized that it was what was on most of the boys' minds, as well as the girls.  
  
"... I like that Fiora one, the one in the red," Ron was saying. Dean shook his head.  
  
"Darkira's for me."  
  
"Astaria was the prettiest, though," said Seamus, and got a faraway look in his eyes. "Those eyes of hers ..."  
  
"Yeah, well, Darkira is still better-looking," Dean argued. "With her black hair and the big cat, she's –"  
  
"Fiora's better then either of them!" Ron said. The other two rolled their eyes.  
  
"No, she's _not_!" they both said in unison, and all three laughed. Ron spotted Harry on the couch then.  
  
"Oi, Harry! Which one d' you like best?" he called, coming over. Harry shrugged.  
  
"Well, Fiora looked kind of crazy; Astaria was chirpy; and Darkira was just scary," he said honestly. Ron, Dean and Seamus all began praising their different idols and telling Harry that the one they liked was the prettiest. Harry rolled his eyes and got up off the couch.  
  
"What were you doing down there, anyways?" Ron asked.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The couch."  
  
"Oh – I got up early and fell asleep down here," he replied, stretching.  
  
"Oh. Well, which one d' you fancy?"  
  
"I don't really fancy any of them ..."  
  
Ron, Dean and Seamus all snorted. "Yeah, right. Come on, mate, which one is it?"  
  
"I told you, none of them. I mean, they're all _pretty_ –"  
  
_"Beautiful."_  
  
"_Gorgeous_."  
  
"More like _stunning_."  
  
"Yeah. Anyways, I can't pick one favourite. Which one d' you reckon will be teaching us, mainly?"  
  
"Darkira."  
  
"Astaria."  
  
"Fiora."  
  
All three of the other boys spoke at the same time, and Harry laughed.  
  
"Oh well. I'm hungry, Harry, I'm going down to breakfast."  
  
"Have you seen Hermione?"  
  
"No," said Ron coolly. "Let's go down, then."  
  
Harry glanced around the common room, scanning it for his friend, but didn't see her, so he let Ron tug him towards the portrait hole. He glanced over his shoulder just as he was climbing through, and glimpsed Hermione just coming down the stairs from the dormitories. Their eyes met for a brief second, and hurt flashed across her face in the moment that he saw her. Then Ron was pulling him through the hole, and it closed behind him. Harry sighed. Oh dear. 


	7. Defense Against the Dark Arts

**A/N: Hullo! WOW, it's been a long time since I updated this one. I've been really busy. But whatever, enough meaningless chitchat, and on to the story!!!**

**----------------------------------------  
**  
When Hermione finally came down to the Great Hall halfway through breakfast, she took one look at Harry sitting beside Ron and sat down along the row beside Ginny. Ron completely ignored her, and continued eating. Harry glanced sideways at him, and decided that it wouldn't do to have both his friends mad at him, so he said nothing.  
  
After a few more minutes of silence, Harry got up, collected his books, and walked out of the Great Hall. He checked his schedule: Defense Against the Dark Arts, first period. He sighed. He'd have to deal with his feuding friends the whole time, as well as put up with all the other boys in the class oohing and aahing over the new professors.  
  
What a start to the term.  
  
When he got to the room, he soon discovered that he was far from the only one who had decided to go to class early. Nearly all the students in the lesson were already present, and were all talking about the three new professors – Darkira, Astaria, and Fiora. Harry rolled his eyes. They weren't that beautiful.  
  
Abruptly, the door swung open, and everyone poured in. Harry quickly scored himself a seat in the row second from the front, and saved two seats on either side of him for Ron and Hermione, thinking that he might as well sit between them.  
  
Ron came in first, eyes bright with excitement. He plunked himself down to Harry's right, and said eagerly, "I didn't think we'd have them first! What luck, eh?"  
  
"Yeah. Luck," said Harry dryly, but Ron ignored him.  
  
"I mean, usually we have it around the third day into term or something. But the first time we actually have female professors, ever, we get it first period, first day! How lucky is that?"  
  
"We had Umbridge last year, Ron."  
  
"Oh, that toad wasn't female," said Ron airily. "And anyway, how can you begin to compare her to Fiora? I mean, she's taller, like me, and she has red hair like me ..."  
  
"Brown with red streaks."  
  
"Shut_ up,_ Harry. And she's the prettiest of the three, hope she's the one to teach us mainly ... they can't all be teaching full time, really, there are three of them ..."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes as Ron rambled on about what he thought the lessons would be like, and what the professors would be like, and would they be good or crazy, and on and on and on and on.  
  
Harry looked up as there was a small yelp from the front of the classroom. Hermione had stumbled over something on the floor as she was coming in, and was now backing away from whatever it was slowly. She hurried over and took the seat to Harry's left, and instantly leaned over to say, "Harry! Did you notice that huge black cat there?"  
  
Harry craned his neck to see, and his eyes widened as he spotted the giant cat lying near the doorway, that he had in fact not noticed upon entering. Its eyes were closed, but as he watched, one eye opened, and stared straight at him. Harry was surprised to see that it was silver. He nudged Ron with his elbow, and when he looked questioningly at him, Harry nodded in the direction of the cat. Ron's eyes widened as Harry's had.  
  
After a few seconds, the cat stood up, and revealed itself to be about four feet in height at the top of its head. The entire class shrank back a little, and the whole front row actually moved their chairs back slightly as it paced in front of them.  
  
Its gaze landed on Ron, as if sizing him up. Ron paled. "Harry ... why's it looking at me like that?"  
  
"Dunno, mate. Maybe you look good to it."  
  
"That's NOT FUNNY."  
  
Harry grinned.  
  
The cat stopped pacing, and kept staring at Ron. When it took a step forward, towards the class of students, the front row all shoved out of the way. Ron paled further, and his eyes widened more than they had already. The cat started walking slowly forward, its eyes never leaving Ron. When Harry glanced sideways, he saw Hermione raise her eyebrows, and could swear he saw a small grin on her face, as well.  
  
"Not trying to hide, are we, Shadow?" came a voice from the door leading to the DADA office. The class peeled their eyes off of the cat and looked up. Darkira stood regally in the doorway, dressed fully in black robes and looking as impressive as ever. She came forward. "Or are you trying to scare the children? Or eat them, perhaps?"  
  
"Kira, don't you scare them," said Astaria, entering behind, clad again in emerald green robes. "That wouldn't leave a good first impression, would it?" she said, although Harry saw her smile.  
  
"Yeah, that probably wouldn't be for the best," finished Fiora as she bounced in – literally. As she had the night before, she wore dark red robes, and a huge smile. Ron finally was able to tear his gaze away from the cat, who had stopped coming forward, and looked up at the three professors. A vacant, dreamy expression came over his face as he watched them.  
  
"Good morning, class. I trust you slept well." It was not a question. "I am Professor Blackstorm. I will be, first and foremost, your Defense Against the Dark Arts professor for this year."  
  
"Wait – YOU'RE not staying longer than a year, either?" exclaimed Dean from the front row. Darkira slowly turned her gaze to him and held it for a few long seconds, before speaking.  
  
"I said nothing of the sort, Mr. Thomas. And I should think that by now, you would all know that when you wish to speak in class, you raise your hand. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your rude interruption."  
  
The class stared at her. Harry looked at Hermione, and knew they were both thinking the same thing: _not another Snape!  
_  
"This is Professor Moonshine," she continued, indicating Astaria, "and this is Professor Brightflame." Fiora waved. "They will be assisting me. Professor Moonshine will also be assisting Professor Sprout in Herbology classes, and Professor Brightflame will be assisting Professor Firenze in Divination. Now, to business."  
  
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron. Now it was business? Business hadn't started yet?  
  
"As I understand, you did not have a Defense Against the Dark Arts class last year?"  
  
Hermione raised her hand. Darkira looked at her. "Yes, Ms. Granger."  
  
"Uh – yes, we did, Professor. We had classes taught by Professor Umbridge."  
  
Darkira raised one eyebrow. "As I said ... you did not have Defense Against the Dark Arts classes last year."  
  
The class exchanged delighted looks of glee.  
  
"And so you are a year behind in your studies, and we must catch up with the curriculum. That is the reason why there are three professors for this class this year, because we must cover two years' units in the space of half that time. At the end of the year, there will be a final exam, of course, and everything you should have learned last year and this year combined will be on it. I don't know if you expect this year to be hard or easy, but however you find it, you must all work hard. I have been informed that you are all very bright, but that will not help you if you do not put in effort, and studying time."  
  
Hermione was looking rather pleased, while the rest of the class looked rather scared.  
  
"If you should be in need of help at any time during the year, please do not hesitate to ask any one of us, and we will be happy to set up extra sessions for students falling behind. Now, let's get down to it."  
  
Fiora stepped forward. "First of all, role call! Hey, it rhymes!" she chirped, and brandished the class list in front of her. "Hannah Abbot."  
  
Hannah slowly put her hand in the air. "Here."  
  
"Hi! Would you stand up and tell us a little about yourself, please?" Fiora asked happily. Hannah looked desperately around, but no one spoke, so she rose to her feet and looked up at the three professors nervously. Darkira smacked her forehead.  
  
"No, no, just sit back down," she said, waving her hand, and Hannah sat down quickly, looking relieved. "There will be no need to tell us anything about yourselves, class. We'll find out everything eventually."  
  
Harry raised his eyebrows worriedly.  
  
"Lavender Brown."  
  
"Here."  
  
"Hmm. You'll need to stop talking to Ms. Patil in class, Ms. Brown, if you're to learn anything at all this year," said Darkira, and then nodded to Fiora. "Do go on."  
  
Fiora continued down the list, calling out names and saying "hi" to each one. "Hermione Granger."  
  
"Here."  
  
"Ah, the intelligent one," muttered Darkira from her chair. "Yes ... never mind, never mind ..." Hermione looked round at Harry, who shrugged as Fiora called out more names.  
  
"Harry Potter. _OH!_ Harry Potter! It's you, is it?" exclaimed Fiora when she came to him. Harry raised his eyebrows again.  
  
"Uh – here," he said unnecessarily. Fiora laughed.  
  
"Hiya! Y'know, I've heard so much about you!"  
  
"Who hasn't?" Harry muttered, but only so that Ron and Hermione could hear. Fiora chirped another cheerful "hi" to him, and went on with the class attendance list.  
  
"Ron Weasley."  
  
"Here."  
  
"OOH! A redhead! I like you already!" giggled Fiora, and Ron very nearly fell out of his seat. "Well, hi!" she said, and looked back down at the list. "Oh, that's it. Okay, back over to you, Kira!"  
  
Darkira rolled her eyes and waved her hand at Astaria, who stood as Fiora took her seat.  
  
"Any questions before we begin?"  
  
Ron tentatively raised his hand, and she nodded. "Uh – er – the cat?" he stammered. Astaria smiled.  
  
"You mean Shadow?" she asked, gesturing at the giant black cat that had lain down beside the desk again. Ron nodded. "He's Professor Blackstorm's pet." The cat growled, and Astaria laughed, for some reason. "I wouldn't get too near him. He'll probably either ignore you entirely, or maul you," she said cheerfully. "So try not to get in his way. Any more questions?"  
  
The class stared.  
  
"What? Okay, no more, then? Good. If you're going to learn two years' worth of lessons in half that time, we'd best get cracking! Today we'll be reviewing your knowledge of the Shield Charm, of which the incantation is Protego. Pair up, please."  
  
The class stood up. Harry gulped as he felt both Ron and Hermione grab his arms at the same time, and felt them glare at each other across him. He glanced apologetically at Ron, and stood up as well. "I'll work with you next time, mate," he said as Hermione dragged him away.  
  
Once they were out of earshot, Harry looked at her. "I don't always side with Ron, you know. In fourth year –"  
  
"I know, I know. We're supposed to be working. You do the Shield Charm first, and I'll attack, all right?"  
  
Harry sighed. "Fine," he said, raising his wand and readying himself for the spell.  
  
He felt Ron's glare at his back for the rest of the class.


	8. Big Black Cats

A/N: Hello again! Meg is standing over me with a whip making me write this. SLAVE LABOUR, DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SLAVE LABOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ahem cough cough yes. Oww, she poked me. Repeatedly. sigh -- Disclaimer: Don't own nothing. D-U- H.  
  
mutters to self no one noticed that double negative, did they? ... aw crap. FINE. You all know I own nothing anyway, or else why would I BE here???? Yeesh.  
  
A note on this chapter: the idea for the most amusing part was given to me by Meg, in fact. Yes, the same Meg that is currently whacking me over the head to keep writing and stop telling people it was her idea HAHAHAHAHA okay I'll shut up now.  
  
And thank you, Meg, for that amusing review.

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Over the next few days, the fight between Hermione and Ron did not cease, or come close to ceasing, or even come close to coming close to ceasing. In fact, it got steadily worse. Harry continuously went back and forth between them, pleading, persuading, and arguing with them both to stop arguing with each other. One minute he would be on Ron's side, the next he'd be on Hermione's side, and the next they'd both be furious with him. Through all the confusion, however, Ron and Hermione still somehow managed to stay mad at one another.  
  
In their first Care of Magical Creatures lesson, Harry was relieved for the chance to be able to talk to Hagrid, not to mention hide behind him so neither of his best friends could see him.  
  
"Wha's wrong with Ron an' Hermione, Harry?" Hagrid asked him during that first lesson. "They seem ter be mad at summat."  
  
"They're fighting, and have been for days," said Harry sullenly. "I've been trying to stop them, but nothing works."  
  
"Oh, they'll come around," Hagrid said reassuringly, whopping Harry on the back and nearly knocking him over, before walking around to the front of the class.  
  
"Right, we've got a special treat today," Hagrid called loudly. "As a sort of surprise for the first class. This here's Shadow, and we'll be giving him a bath today as a class project, as a favour to Professor Blackstorm."  
  
The giant black cat rose to his feet in the shadows beside Hagrid's house. Again, no one had noticed him until now. Everyone jumped backwards.  
  
"Giving it a bath?" came a drawling voice from the back of the group. "Isn't that a bit ... simple for sixth-years?"  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione all glared at the sneering Malfoy. For once, they were united in their opinions. Over by Hagrid's house, the cat – Shadow – had frozen in its steps. Hagrid was explaining how all magical creatures needed to be kept clean in order for their powers to properly work.  
  
"He looks clean to me," stated Lavender, glancing over at him. "Is he not actually black?"  
  
Shadow's silver eyes widened as Hagrid explained that he actually had markings all over his body, but filth had built up so that you couldn't see them. The class laughed.  
  
"All right, let's get started," he said loudly. "Seamus, Dean, Neville, you three go get that big tub over there, and start filling it with water from yer wands. Harry, Ron, Hermione, would yeh go get the bottles of soap from my cabin? The rest of you, roll up yer sleeves and watch how I get Shadow over to the tub."  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione trudged inside and found the six bottles on a stool by the door. "Bloody Malfoy," muttered Ron. "I hope that cat bites him."  
  
"Ron! If he does, Hagrid will be sued again and the cat could be put down!" Hermione snapped. "Don't be stupid!"  
  
Harry sighed. Here they went again.  
  
All of a sudden, there was a loud yell from outside, and students' screams. Harry burst open the door, and the three of them gaped, open-mouthed, as Hagrid was dragged past them on the ground, on his stomach. He was holding tightly onto a chain attached to a collar around Shadow's neck, and the giant cat was pulling frantically in the opposite direction of the tub that was now full of water.  
  
"Don' worry, I've got him!" Hagrid was bellowing. "I've got him! Cats just don't like water, that's all!"  
  
Hagrid pulled himself up, using the chain, and somehow got himself to a standing position. Then he hauled the giant cat towards him and caught it up around the middle, lifting it into the air as it writhed and thrashed wildly.  
  
"Don't worry, everyone, just follow my instructions!"  
  
Ron tugged on Harry's sleeve. "Harry, do you remember what happened the last time he told us to follow his instructions concerning something big and black?"  
  
Harry grinned fleetingly, remembering their adventure with the giant spiders in second year.  
  
"HARRY! Ron! Hermione! Bring the soap!" Hagrid was yelling now as he carried Shadow towards the tub of water. The rest of the class were huddled in a group, pressed against the side of the cabin and watching intently as Hagrid, unceremoniously and roughly, dumped the giant cat into the tub.  
  
Harry seized two bottles of soap and started outside, Ron and Hermione doing the same. They approached slowly and warily, becoming more and more uncertain as Hagrid yelled "Hold 'im down! C'mon, someone, help me hold 'im down!"  
  
"Ohhh, no," Malfoy's voice could be heard only by those people close to him over the yells of Hagrid and the screeching of Shadow. "We're not coming close to that thing!"  
  
When they'd got to within ten feet of the tub, Ron and Hermione stopped walking. "Ah ... I'm not going closer to that than necessary," said Ron nervously, and Harry sighed, taking Ron's two bottles from him. Harry edged forward, unstopped the top of the first bottle, and read the label.  
  
CAT WASH – INCLUDES TRANQUILIZING POTION.  
  
Harry looked back up at the tub – Hagrid holding the cat under the water half the time, it scratching and biting and clawing everywhere it could – and he tossed the opened bottle into the tub. For the first few seconds nothing happened. Then the cat slowly started calming down, clawing less and not thrashing anymore. Hagrid relaxed slightly, panting.  
  
"All right, everyone! Take off your outer robes and roll up your sleeves! There's a crate of sponges and brushes over there by the cabin, so everyone grab one and get washing!" he called, and now that the cat had stopped thrashing, the class hesitantly moved forward. "Put yer robes in a pile over there, and get on with it! You're all bein' marked on this, so anyone who doesn't help here gets to babysit my last Blast-Ended Skrewt while the rest all wash Shadow."  
  
Immediately, the students shed their black robes, tossed them in a pile, and went to get sponges and brushes.  
  
Within seconds, everyone was crowded around the tub, scrubbing Shadow everywhere they could reach while Harry and Hermione poured in the other five bottles of soap. "How long does the tranquilizing potion work, Hagrid?" Harry asked after he and Hermione took off their robes and got a sponge each.  
  
((A/N: All of you sick minded readers out there, PLEASE stop imagining the characters without any clothes on. They still have shirts and pants or skirts on. They just took off the black robes they wear OVER those. So just – just – STOP. Thank you.))  
  
"Tranquilizing potion? Oh, in the soap. Well, to be honest, er, I'm not sure," Hagrid said in a low voice, "but don't tell, would yeh? Don' wanna scare off the class now they're washing fine."  
  
Harry nodded slowly, stuck his hands into the tub of water and started scrubbing.  
  
Hermione was standing beside him, washing away. Shadow jerked his back paw slightly, and sprayed everyone on one end of the tub. They all laughed and wiped sudsy water out of their eyes and hair, and continued scrubbing with their sponges.  
  
After a few more minutes had passed, Shadow started twitching more often. His silver eyes opened, and apparently, didn't like what they saw. A class full of teenagers, all talking and laughing rather too loudly (in his opinion), and washing him. Cleaning him. Bathing him.  
  
Without any warning at all, the giant black cat reared up out of the tub and started clawing at the air, trying to escape the water and the bubbles and the soap suds that surrounded him. It was all too fast for many of the students to react, and, seizing his chance, Shadow leapt out of the tub, straight onto someone's chest, knocking them clean onto their back. Now the class had all started running in different directions, away from the tub and the cat, scattering all over the hill beside Hagrid's hut.  
  
"No, no, no! We still have to rinse and brush 'im down!" Hagrid was yelling. "Don' worry, I've still got 'is chain!"  
  
"Real reassuring, Hagrid!" Ron hollered as he tripped over his own feet in an attempt to get away. The cat yowled, scrambling to his feet and trying to disentangle his claws from the boy's shirt that he had landed on – Malfoy.  
  
Shadow ran forwards, eagerly anticipating freedom – and was jerked to an abrupt halt as he came to the end of the chain. Hagrid was holding on to the other end with all his might. "Now, get out yer wands and on my count, spray 'im with water!" he bellowed. Students stopped running, seeing that Shadow was restrained (and pouting), and inched closer until they were all within spell's range. "Right! One – two – three!" Hagrid shouted, and Shadow was instantly drenched from the spouts of water coming from thirty wands all directed at him.  
  
Once all the soapsuds had been thoroughly dispersed, Hagrid told the class to get out their brushes. "Put yer sponges back in the crate, and get the brushes out while I calm 'im down a bit," he said, and took a brush out himself. Shadow hissed and growled at him at first, but when Hagrid started brushing his coat, the giant black cat lay down and put his paws over his head in defeat.  
  
Everyone – especially the girls – rushed forward and started running their brushes through his thick fur. Hermione noticed something on his back and paws.  
  
"Hagrid – what are those?" she asked, pointing at the now-visible silver markings running all down Shadow's spine, and around his paws. All the girls oohed and aahed.  
  
"Those 're the markin's Professor Blackstorm told me about. Not sure just what they mean, though."  
  
As he brushed Shadow's side, Harry began to wonder when the class would end. Would they have to dry the huge cat, too? He was still dripping wet now, brushed or not. "Hagrid," he called," are we going to dry him off, too?"  
  
"Oh, no," Hagrid said with a smile, and Harry was secretly relieved. "That's for the fifth years to do. Yeh have about half and hour till next class now, yeh can start putting the brushes away," he said to the class at large. "About the Zote, what can be said? There was just one and now it's dead!"  
  
"What?" said Harry, Hermione and Ron at once.  
  
"Oh, nothing," said Hagrid, and he trundled off towards his cabin, carrying an armful of brushes, Shadow slinking along behind him and shooting dark glances at everyone he passed. As he went by Harry, the giant cat chose to stop short, and start to shake.  
  
Water sprayed everywhere, in all directions, as far as fifteen feet away from him. Every person within the vicinity got absolutely soaked, and stood dripping wet, eyes squinched shut. When they could see, they all glared murderously at Shadow prancing by, a look on his face that could only be described as a smirk.  
  
"Aw, man!" squealed Lavender and Parvati. "We can't go to class like this! We're all dripping wet!"  
  
There was a long silence as everyone tried to wring out their shirts, most unsuccessfully.  
  
"I'm too sexy for my shirt."  
  
"What?"  
  
Everyone turned to stare at Dean, who had a hand on the bottom of his shirt, and a stupid grin on his face. He started taking it off as he sang again. "I'm too sexy for my shirt!"  
  
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I've heard that song on the Muggle radio before," she said to Harry.  
  
"I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..." Dean was singing as he stripped off his shirt and started wringing it out. Seamus caught on first.  
  
"I'm too sexy for my shirt!" he crowed, taking off his shirt as well. An infectious grin spread across the faces of all the boys present.  
  
Suddenly, there was a spontaneous outburst of song from all the dripping, soaking wet boys in the class. Shirts came off every which where, voices were raised, grins widened, and girls giggled. "I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts!!!" they all yelled.  
  
Harry and Ron were bent over double laughing, their sopping shirts still on their bodies. Hermione stood over with the rest of the girls, looking disapprovingly at the mass of shirtless boys, but not looking away. Ron looked up, and spotted someone coming out of the school. Her fiery red robes billowing behind her gave her away, and an odd expression came over Ron's face.  
  
"I'M too sexy for my shirt!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, and Harry looked round at him.  
  
"What?" he said, bewildered, as his friend attempted to take his shirt off. Unfortunately, it wasn't working very well. The neck got stuck on Ron's chin, and no matter how hard he pulled at it, it refused to come off of him. He stumbled around, yelling muffled yells, trying to get the shirt off, and bumped into the group of yelling boys that quickly sucked him into their masses. Seamus and Dean emerged, laughing uproariously and swinging their wet shirts over their heads, and went up to Harry.  
  
"Oh, no, you're not getting me into –" Harry began, but they had pulled his shirt right off of his head before he could finish, and pulled him into the group, all still singing at the tops of their lungs.  
  
Fiora walked by, staring amusedly at them, and tapped Parvati on the shoulder. "Uh – is this a usual occurrence at Hogwarts?"  
  
"No!" Parvati squealed, laughing delightedly. "Unfortunately not!"  
  
"Oh," Fiora said, shaking her head, and going on towards Hagrid's cabin.  
  
"I'm too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts..." 


	9. And Lovesick Puppies

Disclaimer: I own the things and people you don't recognize. Everything else ... not mine. Property of JKR and many other peoples. Anyway, there is a quote in this chapter that was said by Germaine Greer, and the first reader to review and can tell me what the quote was will get a prize. The prize: I will incorporate one of your ideas into my story somehow! Keep it small, though. Like one scene or something. Not plot-changing. If it's plot-changing, I will disregard it and go on to the second reviewer to get it right. All those who do get it right will be acknowledged. Happy Hunting!!

A/N: HELLO!!!!!!!! Yes, I'm back again. Meg's got out her whip. I'm writing again. Yahoo!!!!! --

Lol I'm kidding. I love writing. Okay, enjoy!! BTW: Meg is NOT my muse. She is my slavemaster!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Heh ... yyyyyeah. Read and review, my friends!! OH – don't forget to look for wacky (wacky?? Who says wacky?? Besides Meg??) wacky quotes in this chapter!! Hehehehehehehehe ...

----------------------------

After the hilarious and (afterwards) embarrassing rendition of "I'm Too Sexy", Hagrid, upon his return, calmed the boys down. Now, as they trooped back inside, the girls were wishing that they could have whipped off their own shirts, as they were still dripping wet, cold, and secretly displeased that the boys had all calmed down.

All thirty-odd students, boys and girls combined, were dreading the class they had next. They were soaking wet, shivering, and wondering nervously what the professor would have to say to them when they got cold water all over his classroom. Of course, this could only be Snape, and they could only have Potions next, in the cold, dank dungeons.

_Typical luck_, Harry thought sullenly as he slouched down the stairs with the rest of the class. _Just typical. I get dragged _unwillingly_ into a crush of sopping guys, and not girls but _guys_, didn't even dry off from it all, and now I have Potions_. He sighed. _Typical. Arrggh_.

Sure enough, as everyone expected, as soon as the first few students dripped into the dungeon classroom Snape frowned. "What on earth are you doing?" he snarled, making them wince. "Why are you all _wet?_"

"Well ... see ..."

"It's not our fault, Professor."

"I will accept no excuses! You have five minutes between classes – go change!" Snape snapped viciously. Then the rest of the class came in, all soaked, and he turned red, then three blotchy different shades of purple. It was an interesting colour blend on his sallow face. Some students stared at him in fascination, while others hid their faces to avoid being yelled at during the imminent explosion.

"_All_ of you?!" he yelled. Slowly everyone in the class nodded, cringing and shrinking backwards slightly in anticipation. He did not disappoint them. "Are you out of your _minds?!_" he roared, spitting. "A single extra drop of water in a potion can totally destroy it! Have you all gone mad?! There are five minutes specially slotted in between classes so that first-year students can find their way around! You all know the way here! Why did you not take advantage of the extra time to go up to your dormitories and change your clothes?! What class are you all coming from?!"

"Please, Professor Snape, it's not our fault. We just got out of Care of Magical Creatures –" began Malfoy, but Snape rounded on him and cut him off mid-sentence, something he had never done before.

"Professor Hagrid got you all wet and forced you to stay so late that you had to come straight here and drip all over my room?" Snape bellowed. "I highly doubt that is the case, regardless of my opinion of that class!"

"_He_ didn't get us wet, the cat did," said Dean helpfully. Snape whipped around, eyes narrowed.

"Oh, it was the _cat_, was it? What cat?! Has Professor Hagrid acquired a new pet that sprays water at its victims?!"

"No, for heaven's sake, Severus, he doesn't spray water. They were just giving him a bath," said a female voice from the doorway. Everyone turned to see who the speaker was, and Snape's face turned a motley of more different colours.

Professor Blackstorm smiled. "Actually, that would be quite amusing to see him spray water at his victims ... I should mention that to him. Anyways, you wouldn't mind terribly if I sat in on your class, would you?" All the male students in the room suddenly had vacant, spaced out expressions on their faces. Hermione rolled her eyes, noticing this. Professor Blackstorm continued. "I mean, since I'm a new teacher and all, I just wanted to get a feel for how everyone else goes about their schedules. I'm not sure if I can get the class to pay attention quite yet."

As she said this last sentence, her gaze flicked oh-so-amusedly towards the staring students, and she bit her lip as if trying not to laugh. A few people giggled quietly, and the smile was instantly wiped off of the attractive professor's face as she glared at them. The giggling stopped.

"Well?"

"Oh – erm – yes, of course," Snape gurgled, in a rather strangled voice. Professor Blackstorm nodded at him.

"Thanks," she said, and swept off to the front of the classroom, conjured a comfortable-looking black chair, and sank down on it, facing the class. She placed her chin on her hands and regarded them through slightly narrowed eyes, inspecting every inch of every student and taking in both the fact that they were standing around stupidly, and their unfortunate appearances.

"Right. Where was I?" Snape muttered. As the students hurried to their seats, they gaped in wonder. Snape was _never_ flustered, _never_ forgot where he was or what he was doing or saying, and _never_ allowed himself to be interrupted. What was going on here?

Hermione raised her hand. Snape glared at her, sneering, "What do you want, Miss Granger?"

"You were just about to start the lesson, Professor."

He looked suspiciously at her for a moment, then cleared his throat. "Yes. Today's lesson. You will be learning how to make a Palantir potion. This potion is useful in –"

"Many different seeing spells," finished Professor Blackstorm. "It is used by pouring the mixture into a bowl and naming the place or person you wish to regard."

"Yes. Thank you. Professor Blackstorm. Are you going to interrupt me every time I begin a sentence?"

"It's likely," the woman nodded, expression neutral. Snape sighed, eyes closed, and breathed deeply. Then without a word of complaint he turned back to the class and told them that the instructions were on the board and that they had less than an hour and a half because they'd wasted so much time at the beginning of class dripping all over everywhere and if they wanted to complete their potions they had better go getting I mean get going now WORK!

And the class got to work.

As they went about silently preparing their potions, Professor Blackstorm turned to Snape and looked at him oddly as he began to mutter to himself. Heads looked up as they noticed that he was talking.

"Love, love, love -- all the wretched cant of it, masking egotism, lust, masochism, fantasy under a mythology of sentimental postures, a welter of self-induced miseries and joys, blinding and masking the essential personalities in the frozen gestures of courtship, in the kissing and the dating and the desire, the compliments and the quarrels which vivify its barrenness."

She stared at him for a moment, then started to clap politely. He snapped out of the stupor he apparently had been in and looked at her oddly. "What are you clapping for?"

"I'm applauding you. That was a fine speech."

"What speech?"

"The one you just said. About the stupidity of love?"

There was a long silence in which everyone stared at Snape, and he stared at Professor Blackstorm. This seemed to last about ten minutes, but was really only about one. After the long while, Snape breathed five words.

"... I said that out _loud?_"

The class erupted with raucous laughter. No one could help it. Snape blushed furiously. It was odd, insane, and unexpected, but no student in that classroom had _quite_ the same amount of respect for him again after that. Knowing this, Snape swallowed his humiliation, forced his face back to its normal colour, straightened his back, clenched his fists, and roared.

"SHUT UP! BACK TO WORK **_NOW!_**" he bellowed. When the class saw the murderous look in his eyes, the respect – or fear – returned immediately, and they all shut up and hurried back to work. "Twenty points from Gryffindor! Twenty points from Slytherin!" he barked loudly.

Ron's mouth fell open in protest. "But –"

"_Make that FIFTY points from Gryffindor!_" Snape shrieked. "And if I hear one more SOUND from this class, it will be _one hundred!_"

Simultaneously, Harry and Hermione slammed their hands over Ron's mouth to ensure that he shut up. Snape glared darkly at the three of them, but didn't take any more points off. _Thank god for that_, thought Harry to himself. Not even three weeks into the school year and Snape had already taken over seventy points off Gryffindor.

"Uh, 'scuse me?" said Professor Blackstorm. Snape turned around and glared at her.

"_Yes?_"

At that moment, there was a great clatter from outside in the hall. It sounded much like a cat being tortured combined with claws on stone. Professor Blackstorm rose to her feet.

Shadow burst into the room, yowling his little – gigantic – heart out. If one could describe the look on his feline face, it would be one of anguish. Utter anguish. His fur was braided in many places, and all the braids were tied off with tiny pink bows. There was also a much larger bow on top of the poor cat's head that had fallen off slightly and was hanging rather lopsidedly off one ear.

Professor Blackstorm's eyes widened, and at first the class was afraid that her wrath would come down upon them – but no. It was worse. Frightening. It was something she did so rarely that it didn't look natural.

A slow, humongous grin spread across her face as she stared at her giant black pet. It had stopped running and was standing in the doorway of the classroom, its tail hanging limply, its eyes wide, its ears drooping pathetically, pink bows glittering.

She laughed.

A long, hysterical laugh escaped Professor Blackstorm's lips, and she had to steady herself with one hand on Snape's shoulder so she didn't fall over with mirth. (Snape, to put it bluntly, blushed again, but no one was looking at him.) Shadow sighed, walked sullenly over to Professor Blackstorm, and dropped like a stone to the floor, hiding its great head under its paws and looking utterly defeated.

Professor Blackstorm, still snickering, knelt down beside it and started petting its head sympathetically. "You poor baby ... did you have fun outside?" More snickering. "I should get Hagrid to bathe you more often. You really do smell nice. And your being dirty is all your fault, really." More snickering. "You poor little thing."

"Get back to your work!" Snape barked, not taking his eyes off of the giant braided pink-bowed cat. "Go on now, before I have to take off even more points."

For the next approximate hour and a quarter, the class tried their level best to get their potions together and properly assembled before the time was up. The only sounds in the room were the clinks of jars, bubbling of potions, and the snickering of Professor Blackstorm as she undid the braids in Shadow's fur and extracted pink bows.

By the end of the class she had undone all the braids and had placed every last bow into a pile except for the larger one on his head. As she lifted her hand to pick this one off, she smiled, shaking her head. "I still can't believe they put _pink bows_ on you, Shadow. Pink bows! Pi-"

Suddenly Professor Blackstorm went very pale. Her eyes widened. She dropped the bow. "Great. Mother. Goddess. I was handling ... PINK!" she exclaimed, now having the attention of the entire class. She leapt to her feet and jumped backwards, staring in horror at the pile of bows on the floor beside her cat. Incidentally, it was almost smirking. Professor Blackstorm flew into a fit and ran around the dungeon, saying, "Goddess, Goddess, Goddess, oh Goddess, contamination! CONTAMINATION! Get it off get it off get if off get if OFF!"

She grabbed the robes of the person closest to her – who happened to be Ron – and started pawing furiously at his shoulder. Ron, admittedly, wasn't displeased. When she saw the look on his face, she recoiled slightly, and muttered frantically, "Must ... decontaminate ... pinkness ... you!" she cried, pointing at Snape and running at him.

As she wiped her hands on his robes, Snape stood up a little straighter, but still had a look of utter bewilderment on his face. "Er ... are you quite ... all right? My robes."

Professor Blackstorm ignored him. Once she tried wiping her hands on his hair, stopped instantly, looked at him, and said, "You need to have a shower," and continued pawing at his robes. When she had finished, she glared murderously at the pile of pink bows.

Scowling darkly, murder in her eyes, she advanced on them, and at first it looked like she was about to attack her giant black pet, who was lying beside the bows, but no; she scooped them all up in her hands, looked around wildly for a place to put them, and landed her gaze on Snape's desk.

"No wait don't that's –!" Snape tried to warn her, but to no avail.

In one swift motion she dumped the lot of pink bows straight into Snape's cauldron, filled with Palantir potion, and the whole thing exploded.

_KA-**BOOM!!!!**_

After about twenty seconds, the smoke cleared somewhat, and a rather odd scene was revealed.

Snape stood behind his desk, face blackened, eyes closed, breathing long and hard breaths to keep himself calm. Professor Blackstorm was not marked at all, but was leaning over the destroyed cauldron with a triumphant expression on her face.

"HAH."

With that, she dusted off her hands, and marched out of the classroom, leaving it in the midst of total chaos and disarray. A few seconds later she came back in.

"And if any of you bring _pink_ into _my_ classroom ... the _cauldron!_" she hissed, pointing at Snape's blackened desk for emphasis. She stalked out again.

Three seconds later, she popped her head back in. ... Again. This time she beckoned to Shadow, who was – if one could put a name to a feline face – grinning. "Come, Shadow!" she said, and the giant cat trotted happily after her as she left the classroom for the third and final time.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all glanced at each other (Ron and Hermione glared just to glare).

"This class is now over. You are all dismissed. Please get out of my sight by the count of five or I may not have control over my actions. One. Two. Three. Four."

The entire class had vacated the premises when he opened his eyes and said "Five."


	10. Chocolate Wars and Hot Strangers

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: I'm baaaaaaaack! Along with my slavemaster Meg. Writing is just so much fun. Don't forget to find the wacky quote! I'll remind you again at the end of the chapter. Remember – the first reviewer who correctly guesses what the quote is gets their idea incorporated into the story! Huzzah.**

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Weeks passed.

As the classes got steadily stranger, the students got used to it. Sort of. Well, they adjusted. Slightly. Right, who cares? Anyway, Professors Blackstorm, Moonshine and Brightflame continued to make boys drool in their presence. Ron was especially smitten with Professor Brightflame, understandably. Harry was of course attracted to all three, but hadn't picked a favourite. And dear Hermione kept rolling her eyes and bashing the two – especially Ron – over the head for staring.

The two of them still hadn't made it up. They continued to snipe at each other constantly, often putting Harry in the middle, and both refused to apologize. Neither would listen to Harry's pleas, either. This had to be one of the longest-running fights between the two of them that they'd ever had. Not once in six years had any of the trio fought steadily for more than a month, and now it had been almost two.

Everyone else around them got used to the bickering. It was the same as always, only slightly escalated. Even the professors accepted the fact that they weren't going to work together well, no matter how many times they were paired up by a teacher.

The great black cat came and went, appearing halfway through classes and moseying out just as quickly. This wandering was not restricted only to Defense Against the Dark Arts, either; the cat went where he pleased, when he pleased, and could usually be found either sleeping, smirking in his catlike way, or running from groups of giggling girls wanting to pet his glossy fur and tie in little pink bows.

With Halloween approaching, a notice was sent out to all students that there would be a ball on the evening of October thirty-first. Costumes were mandatory; anyone who was not in costume would not be allowed in (people dressed as Muggles did not count unless they were famous). There would be two different costume contests – one for the students and one for the professors. The prize, awarded to the best-dressed male and female students, would be a free trip to Romania for winter break. The teachers' prize, male and female, would be a surprise.

All the students were quite excited about the prospect of a Halloween ball. It had never occurred before, and so a special trip to Hogsmeade was arranged so that everyone could go to get costumes the weekend before the occasion.

"But what should I _go_ as?" asked Hermione.

The three friends were huddled on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, discussing what they should wear for costumes. Harry and Ron stared in a mix of horror and fascination as she coaxed the massive black-furred cat over to the couch from his place in front of the fire. When he sank back down again, this time just beside the couch, she began petting him, and the three of them could swear they heard purring.

Hermione and Ron started debating on what to be.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Well, what should I _go as_, you twits?"

"Oh, right. Uh ... you could go as a cat..." This earned Ron a rolling of Hermione's eyes.

"I mean seriously. I have no idea what to go as."

"I _was_ serious. You could get a whole suit, all black, and cat ears, and a tail, and claws and stuff."

Hermione looked thoughtful. "I suppose it _could_ work. What about you two?"

"I dunno. I was thinking of going as a butterfly."

"Ron, you are _not_ going as a butterfly," said Harry firmly. "I won't let you disgrace yourself like that."

"Hey, butterflies are cool."

"Why don't you go as a spider?"

"HERMIONE!"

"What? It would allow you to overcome your arachnophobia."

"My ... what?"

"Fear of spiders, Ron."

"Thanks Harry. I have no idea what to go as." Ron started naming off different things. "Let's see ... a nose, a bat, a fairy, a frog, a frog _prince_, a rat – wait no, nevermind ... uh ... a unicorn, a Bowtruckle, a giant –"

"I don't see why you don't just go as a spider."

"Shut _up_, Hermione ... I'm running out of ideas here ..."

"You could go as Dumbledore."

"I could _what?_"

"He could _what?_"

"Dumbledore. Y'know, you could get a big long beard and robes with stars and stuff. And half-moon glasses. And eccentricity."

"I love it!" cried Hermione, looking excited. "And we could get that ageing potion that he used in fourth year to give the twins beards, only longer! And _I_ could research how to make good cat ears and eyes and claws and things ..."

"You know who might be good at all that," suggested Harry.

"Who?"

-----------------------------------

A little while later, the three of them, Shadow trotting behind them and looking alert and amused, were knocking on the door to the DADA office. Ron was extremely nervous, Hermione was excited, and Harry was knocking. When it opened and Professor Brightflame peeked her head out, she squealed in a rather high-pitched manner.

"Ooh! So wonderful to see you all on a Saturday morning. Aren't you going to Hogsmeade?"

"Yes, in about an hour. We were just wondering whether one of you three could – er – help us with our costumes?"

"Why, of _course!_ Come on in!" chirped the professor, and stepped aside, opening the door with her. It was the three's first time seeing the inside of the office, and now they stared around in wonder.

There were three very distinct areas in the room, clearly belonging to each of the three women. One corner was bright reds, oranges, pinks, and yellows, and was decorated with exotic dolls, strange-looking devices with no apparent purpose, and lots and lots and _lots_ of candles. Another corner was almost the polar opposite, being all blacks and purples and dark blues. There was transparent shimmery material hanging from the walls in that corner, and it was scattered with books. Many, many, many books. The third area was entirely made up of greens and blues, and was decorated with plants. The entire area was covered in plants. At a sort of neutral point in the room, there was a fireplace with chairs around it.

Overall, the room gave the impression of harmonic chaos.

"Bloody hell," said Ron. Hermione elbowed him.

Professors Blackstorm and Moonshine were sitting in their respective corners (Blackstorm was in a turtle-shell chair, reading, Moonshine in a hammock made from vines). They looked up when everyone came in.

"Oh, hello. What do you want?" said Blackstorm.

"Er – sorry to bother you and all –"

"They want help with their costumes!" sang Brightflame, clapping her hands. "I took pity on them because they're – well, you know – small."

"To _you_," muttered Moonshine, the shortest of the three.

"What exactly do you need help with?" asked Blackstorm. Harry looked to Ron and Hermione for help and got none.

"Er – um – our, uh, costumes?"

"Yeah, I got that part. What do you need help with?"

"Cat ears!" cried Hermione, at the same time that Ron blurted out, "Beards!"

"I'll cover the cat ears," said Blackstorm. "You'd better cover the beards, Lú, we don't want Sil incinerating them."

"Too true," agreed Moonshine, swinging her legs out of the hammock and standing up. She beckoned to Ron. "What kind of beard did you have in mind?"

About half an hour later, Ron had learned a spell to grow long white hair and a long white beard in two minutes. Hermione had learned a spell to grow black, velvety cat ears in two minutes. She knew a handy little spell that grew claws out of the tips of her fingers (that were quite sharp, proven by Ron). She had also learned a trick that gave her catlike eyes. Harry, not knowing what else to do, had learned it all, and could now effectively be, if he wanted to, a cat-eared, cat-eyed, clawed Dumbledore.

As soon as the professors were satisfied that they had learned the spells well enough to get them practically perfect, they checked the clock and informed them that they had about fifteen minutes to get ready for Hogsmeade and get down to the Great Hall. With many hurried thank-you's, Hermione and Ron rushed out of the room. Harry hung back, looking nervous.

"Aren't you going to Hogsmeade?" asked Brightflame, tilting her head to one side in her childish way. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, but – I have _no_ idea of what I'm going to go as still."

"Oh, you want ideas?" asked Brightflame, her face lighting up in a brilliant smile. "Okay, cockroach."

"Butterfly," suggested Moonshine.

"Birdie!"

"Tree!"

"Rose!"

"Yak!"

"What?"

"A yellow hairy cow."

"Oh."

"A moose!"

"A bunny!"

"Dracula!"

"Oooh, that's a good one, Star. Hmmm ... a Nazgul!"

"An Acromantula?"

"Are you liking anything you're hearing yet, Harry?" asked Brightflame hopefully.

Harry had been looking back and forth between the two of them, watching them throw out ideas back and forth like a tennis match. Now he shook his head slowly. "Er, sorry, but what's a Nazgul?"

"Nevermind. Hmmm ... you could go as a Dementor," suggested Brightflame.

"NO," said Harry decisively.

"Excuse me," said Blackstorm, who had finally gotten up and was now standing in front of Harry, peering closely at him. She looked him up and down, and said, "Turn around." Harry did so. When he was facing her again, he realized that all three professors were now staring closely at him. He was just beginning to get unnerved when Blackstorm leaned back and snapped her fingers. "I've got it."

"What?"

"Elf."

"YES!" cried both Moonshine and Brightflame, excitedly.

"Green eyes –" began Moonshine.

"Messy black hair –" Brightflame went on.

"And he's damn good-looking," finished Blackstorm. The other two nodded, grinning.

Harry turned bright, fire-engine red and coughed.

"Right, well, come by our office on Halloween before the ball and we'll get you your costume. What colours do you want your robes to be?" asked Blackstorm.

"My – what?"

"You don't need to buy your costume at Hogsmeade today, we can make you one. We know what Elves wear. Now, what colours would you like your robes to be?" asked Moonshine.

"Oh," said Harry. "Er – thanks – thank a _lot_ – wow –"

"_What colours do you want?_" asked Blackstorm impatiently.

"Er – green?" suggested Harry. "To match –"

"Eyes, right, good choice. Light green, dark green...?" asked Moonshine.

"Dark, if that's okay."

"Good choice too. Silver with it?" asked Blackstorm.

"No! Those are Slytherin colours!"

"Hmm, true. How about gold?" she suggested. Harry shrugged.

"Sure."

"Dark emerald green with gold trim ... I like it. How about just a little bit of silver in there because it _does_ go so well with green?" asked Moonshine.

"Uh ... okay, fine. But mostly gold, right?"

"Yes."

"And with fire at the bottom of the robes!" squeaked Brightflame, bouncing up and down and clapping excitedly. All three others turned to look at her and shook their heads.

"No," said Moonshine and Blackstorm at the same time.

"Er – so you'll make my whole costume for me?"

"That's right. Now get going, you don't want to miss your friends and be late for Hogsmeade," said Moonshine, and shooed him out the door.

"Professors – thank you so much –"

"Call me Fiora."

"Call me Star."

"Call me – Professor Blackstorm," said Blackstorm, and the other two turned and rolled their eyes at her in exasperation.

"_Kira_."

"Oh, fine, do whatever. But only _outside_ of class. And not in front of anyone else. Got it?"

"Yes, Professor. I mean – Dar- what was it?"

"You're late for Hogsmeade. Go!" said Blackstorm/Darkira, and Harry went.

---------------------------------------

"What took you so long?" asked Hermione as the three friends walked through the snow towards Hogsmeade. He'd caught up with her and Ron just as they were in line to go in the Great Hall.

"Oh, I just wanted to talk to the professors about something. Where are you going to get your costumes?"

When they got to Hogsmeade, Hermione ran off into a store and wouldn't let Harry and Ron come in because she wanted her outfit to be "secret". After much eye-rolling on Ron's part, he dragged Harry into a robes shop and made him help pick out Dumbledore-esque robes – ones in deep purples and blues, decorated with shining stars, moons and planets. When they had found one that suited the part perfectly, Harry helped Ron pay for it (early Christmas present) and they headed to the Three Broomsticks to meet up with Hermione.

On the way there, Harry (through much persuading) convinced Ron to get something for Hermione. After all, they were almost on civil terms now, and he'd better do something to seal it. After some debate Ron bought a small box of pumpkin-shaped chocolates from Honeydukes for her.

When they got to the Three Broomsticks, she was already sitting at a table with a group of girls including Lavender, Parvati, Ginny, Hannah Abbot, and some other Gryffindor and Hufflepuff fifth- and sixth-year girls. Harry and Ron sat down beside her and put their bags on the floor beside the other girls' things.

"Oh, hello guys!" said Hermione. "We were just talking about boys, in fact – reasons why chocolate is better than boys, actually."

"What?" cried Ron. "We're better than chocolate."

The girls at the table all laughed. "No one's ever been jilted by a chocolate gateau," said Lavender challengingly. Ron stuttered.

"Uh – well, you –"

At that moment, Seamus, Dean and Neville walked by and overheard the conversation. "Chocolate never keeps you waiting," retorted Seamus.

"It's on!" cried Ginny, who put up one finger. "After telling your chocolate bar all your worries you can simply eat it."

"Bah! Well – chocolate doesn't get jealous when you look at another chocolate bar!" said Dean, who was still in fact dating Ginny, who stuck her tongue out at him.

"You can share chocolates with your best friend," said Parvati, and she and Lavender giggled.

"Yeah – well – you never have to buy a box of chocolates for a box of chocolates!" grumbled Ron. Harry elbowed him.

"A bar of chocolate doesn't bore you by constantly talking about Quidditch," said Hannah.

"Chocolate doesn't talk incessantly while you're watching Quidditch, either!" retorted Neville, and then he blushed.

"Your mother will never disapprove of your choice of chocolate," said a fifth-year Hufflepuff girl.

"It doesn't expect you to remember the anniversary of the first time you met!" said Seamus.

"Chocolate never tries to chat up your best friend!" said Dean, glaring at Lavender, who batted her eyelashes innocently at him.

"Chocolate isn't looking for a long term commitment!" called a seventh-year Ravenclaw from another table. The girl sitting next to him whacked him over the head while they all laughed. The girls seemed to be at a bit of a loss, and the guys started cheering because they'd won the war. Ron chose this lovely, _perfect_ moment to dig the box of chocolates out of his bag and hand it unceremoniously to Hermione, who hadn't taken much part in the battle.

"Here. Sorry about fighting for two months. We friends again?" he asked as she raised an eyebrow at him. She cleared her throat to get everyone's attention.

"Life is like a box of chocolates, a cheap, thoughtless, perfunctory gift no one ever asks for. Unreturnable because all you get back is another box of chocolates. So you're stuck with this mostly indefinable whipped mint crap, mindlessly wolfed down when there's nothing else to eat during the game. Sure, once in a while you get a peanut butter cup or an English toffee, but it's gone too soon and the taste is fleeting. In the end you're left with nothing but broken bits of hardened jelly and teeth-shattering nuts, which if you are desperate enough to eat, leaves nothing but useless brown paper wrappers."

There was a short silence during which everyone in the immediate vicinity stared at her, and then the girls broke out into applause. Even the guys admitted that her speech topped them all. With as much dignity as she could muster, Hermione handed the chocolates back to a furiously blushing Ron, who had at least enough sense to put them back into his bag. He'd give it to her later.

The only one who hadn't actually said anything about chocolate, Harry, now spoke up. "Anyone hungry?"

There was a chorus of "Yes", and they all went up to the counter to order Butterbeer and cookies. (The cookies were on the house for the girls from Madame Rosmerta as their prize for winning the chocolate war.)

-----------------

Back in the common room later that afternoon, when everyone else had gone to their respective houses, Harry asked Hermione if she'd got what she was looking for in her costume.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I did. I quite like it, it's all in black and very catlike. And no, I'm not going to show it to you. It's going to be a surprise for the ball, thank you very much. I don't want to see either of your costumes either, it ruins all the fun."

"I wouldn't be able to show you mine anyway, even if you'd wanted to see it. Professor Blackstorm, Moonshine, and Brightflame are making it for me – they offered. Really nice of them, actually."

"They're making it for you?" asked Ron.

"Yep."

"What are you going as?" Hermione inquired.

"I'm not telling," said Harry proudly, "but it'll be good, I hope."

"Mine'll beat yours, mate, and you know it."

"Probably."

"Ron, have you still got that chocolate with you?"

Both boys turned to look at her quizzically. "What?" asked Ron.

"That chocolate you were going to give me in the Three Broomsticks. Have you still got it?"

"Uh – yeah, why?"

"I've decided I'm not mad at you anymore."

A smile broke out on Ron's face. "Well, that's good. Y' know, I was beginning to get worried there –"

"And therefore, can I still have the chocolates?" Hermione interrupted him. Ron looked taken aback, but swallowed, and nodded. He got up off the couch uncertainly, and went up the dormitory stairs to get the chocolate from his costume bag.

When he came back down with the small box, Hermione smiled and took it from him.

"Just one question – why didn't you take it before?" Ron asked timidly.

"Oh, I was just trying to prove a point. Thank you very much for the chocolate, Ron."

And she popped them into her mouth (not all at once, you sickos).

----------------------------

On the day of the ball, Halloween itself, classes were let out early so that students could get ready for the six o' clock start and so that the Great Hall could be readied for the occasion. Every class (except Potions of course) did some kind of festive activity. Last period before the end of the day for Harry, Ron and Hermione was Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Today we are going to be working on some techniques to fireproof a room," said Bgifhtflame smilingly. "The spell is called –"

At that moment, interrupting her, the door opened, and in walked a man.

He had long, silver hair that shimmered in the light and swayed slightly when he walked. He walked with a slight swagger that showed total confidence and superiority. His eyes were icy blue, but where there should be white, instead there was silver. His ears were slightly more pointed than could be human and just protruded out of his hair. His skin was heavily tanned and flawless.

As he entered, every female in the room's mouths dropped open. He was so good-looking it almost hurt to look at him, but they managed.

The three professors were staring at him in horror, Harry noticed. This was quite contrary to the expressions of everyone else. The man, who looked to be about twenty-one, swaggered over to a comfortable-looking armchair and sank down onto it, looking incredibly casual and uncaring. Moonshine promptly crossed the room in three strides and stood beside his chair. She turned towards the class and forced a smile to her face.

"Shut your mouths, children," muttered Blackstorm. "You'll catch flies."

"Class," said Moonshine, falsely cheerful, "allow me to introduce you to my _cousin_. His name is ... uh, his name is – Katze!"

"Gato!" cried Brightflame.

"Sombra!" announced Blackstorm. They'd all said the names at the same time. The man turned to look at them.

"Uh, no. Those are just your crazy nicknames. My _name_ is Elendil Lossëhelin."

"Yes!" chorused the three professors.

"_Elendil_, say hello to our students."

The man – Elendil – swept his gaze over the sea of faces before him and lifted a delicate eyebrow. "Hi."

All the girls sighed dreamily.

Harry looked sideways at Hermione, who surprisingly was also starry-eyed. He rolled his eyes at Ron, who snickered. Harry reached over and chucked her under the chin. "Wake up," he whispered. She glanced at him, and stuck out her tongue.

"Elendil will be sitting in on this class today. Please feel free to ignore him, completely. In fact, do. Yes, even you, Miss Brown, Miss Patil. Please continue, Sil."

"Thank you, Kira. As I was saying, this class we are going to learn a fireproofing spell that will fireproof a room and yourself. After using this spell effectively on yourself, and after making sure absolutely _everything_ had been covered, you can pretty well walk through fire. Isn't that cool?" she said delightedly.

-----------------------------------------

At the end of the lesson, the three professors called Harry back on his way out. He remembered what he had asked, and told Ron and Hermione he would either see them in the common room later or he'd see them at the ball. Hermione nodded and waved to him, while Ron grumbled about the fact that Harry was staying alone in a room with the three drop-dead gorgeous professors. Hermione told him he wasn't alone, he had Elendil, the lucky little bum.

Harry turned to the three professors. They were smiling at him.

"We have your outfit, full and completed," said Brightflame.

"If I do say so myself, it is _very_ well made," said Blackstorm.

"Well, let's get you ready," said Moonshine, and they went to work.

**A/N: Hope you all liked this chapter! Remember, the first reviewer to tell me what the crazy quote in this chapter was gets their idea incorporated into the story! Ciao!! **


	11. Preparations

**A/N: Hiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!! :D:D Yes, I'm BACK! Along with Slavemaster Meg, who demands to be acknowledged. Yes, there you go, dear.**

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**Don't forget the wacky quotes! ;) Ta-ta, darlings.**

**------------------**

The ball was in two hour's time.

Ever since classes had been let out, the DADA professors had been working on Harry, Elendil occasionally throwing out suggestions and telling them ways in which they could improve the costume while never actually getting up or lifting a hand to help. Harry had makeup put on him such as eye enhancements and a cream to make his skin glow faintly. (Brightflame, or as she made him call her, Fiora, applied this. While she scrubbed it onto his hands, arms, face and neck, she pointed out how grumpy he looked. He replied that it was because she was pinching him. At this, she elapsed into a fit of the giggles.)

One thing that took up a lot of time was Harry's vision.

"Elves do not wear glasses," stated Blackstorm as they discussed what to do about it. "They just don't. All Elves have more-than-perfect vision. That is that."

"But I've seen elves with glasses before –"

"Must I remind you _again_, Harry, that we are not making you a house-elf? You are going as an _Elf_. Capital 'e'. They are tall, beautiful, powerful, and have perfect vision."

"But –"

"Harry, Harry, Harry ... just let us do the work. Now, we do need to get rid of those glasses," said Moonshine. "Aha! I've got it – the Optemetrium Charm should do it."

"The opty-what?"

"The Optemetrium Charm. It's a spell that corrects less-than-perfect vision," said Moonshine. Harry raised his eyebrows.

"How come I haven't ever heard of it before?" he asked, thinking about how much of a bother glasses were.

"It's not very well known, not many people use it."

"Why _not?_"

"There are a couple of reasons," Moonshine said, starting to rattle them off without taking a breath. "First of all, it's a _very_ complicated spell that only certain wizards or witches can perform. It also takes some time to prepare and of course there are the side effects that in the worst cases do include colour-blindness, temporary blindness, permanent blindness, and stinging. Then there's the fact that the spell is almost impossible to perform absolutely perfectly, seeing as – hehehe, seeing, get it? – if there is not the _exact_ amount of certain ingredients and if the incantation is not pronounced as clearly and correctly as is humanly possible it will not last. You see, the spell works quite unusually."

"Wait, wait, wait – there's the possibility that I could go _blind?_"

Moonshine smiled. "Only if I mess up."

Harry stared and blinked once. All three professors laughed – this didn't reassure him much, although he really wanted to learn the spell. "Okay, okay, so ... what are the ingredients? Is it a potion?"

"No, you just need them present for the incantation. Like I said, it's very complex. Anyway, we've already got them all together and taken the necessary precautions to ensure that –"

"Erm, why are precautions needed?"

"Harry," said Blackstorm, putting a hand on his shoulder, "we're professors of Defense Against the Dark Arts, as I'm sure you're aware. We know what we're doing." Harry nodded and swallowed slightly. Moonshine continued.

"The necessary precautions to ensure no damage will be done to your eyes. Now, please remove your glasses and stand there." She pointed to a small "x" marked in Spellotape on the floor in the middle of the office. There was a small ring of little bits of herbs in different small bowls around him, and he took care not to step on them as he did what he was told. "The plants you see there are for cleanliness. They're to make sure your eyes stay clean through the procedure. We haven't touched them with our hands at all, because after all these are your eyes we're dealing with here, and we don't want skin residue getting in your eyes, do we? No, we don't. Now, whatever you do, please keep your eyes open wide, Harry. And hold quite still. I don't want to miss. One, two, three."

Moonshine lifted her wand – which had appeared into her hand out of absolutely nowhere – and spoke the incantation, the tip of the wand pointing straight at Harry's eyes. "_Optemetria reparo incantatem vistium iristo corneus retinus maximus!_"

Harry's vision was suddenly filled with a blindingly bright white light, and although his eyes watered, he resisted the urge to blink. Then his vision cleared, everything came into focus, and he discovered that he could _see_.

Harry stared around the room in wonderment. This had to be abnormal. He hadn't gotten his prescription changed in years, and he'd just gotten used to the slight blurriness of the world. Now he could see every individual sharp corner on every leaf in Moonshine's area of the room; he could see every thread in Blackstorm's wall hangings; and every bubble in the wax of Brightflame's candles. When he looked back bewilderedly at Moonshine, she grinned at him. "Make a difference?"

"A _difference?_ I can bloody see _everything!_" Harry cried, a grin of his own spreading onto his face. "The leaves – even the little tiny, curvy lines in those curtains – I can practically count every freckle on your face, Professor Brightflame!"

"Isn't clear vision great? Call me Fiora. I don't have freckles!" said Brightflame, sounding like she said it all in once sentence. Moonshine lifted an eyebrow.

"You can count her freckles from six feet away?" both she and Brightflame rounded on Blackstorm who smiled innocently (or as innocently as she could). "Kira!" scolded Moonshine. "Did you let me put it on too strongly?!"

"What? He's supposed to be an Elf, right? Elves have perfect vision ..."

"He can count her _freckles!_"

"Elves do have better-than-perfect vision, you know."

"_Kira!_" growled Moonshine, and then rolled her eyes, exhaling in frustration. "Fine. Harry," she said, turning to him, "you'll have Elf vision for as long as the spell lasts. The length of the spell is undeterminable, another reason why it's not commonly used. And most wizards or witches just like glasses. So, enjoy your seeing-aide-free hours slash days while they last. Now for your ears."

"My – my ears?"

"Yes, of course your ears. Elves have pointy ears, didn't you guess? We have a spell to make your ears grow Elflike."

"Do you have a spell for everything?"

"Pretty much."

Harry found Moonshine reminding him of Hermione, and he laughed to himself as the three professors swooped down on him again and readied him for the spell. He put his glasses in his bag. After they'd done it, Brightflame whipped out a mirror and let Harry look at himself in it. He felt the tips of his ears in wonder, amused by how pointy they were.

Suddenly, there was knocking on the door to the DADA room. The three professors glanced at each other, nodded, and went into action. Moonshine and Blackstorm picked Harry up by his arms and swiftly carried him across the room while Brightflame went to answer the door. They magically opened a door that Harry hadn't noticed before and dumped him unceremoniously into the closet behind it. He stumbled into brooms and mops and such things, and went momentarily blind as they shut the door (there was no light in the room) but after a second, his eyes adjusted to the dark.

He could see surprisingly well. He supposed that must have been the Elf vision working for him. Putting the strangeness of his new ability aside, he tried to open the door, but the handle wouldn't turn. Probably locked. He decided it was most likely for his own good, but pressed his ear – pointy! pointy! – up against it anyway.

He heard muffled voices that he could identify as the three professors talking to another voice – female also, but he couldn't tell exactly who – and he could catch parts of words every once in a while.

"My – air – tin – only – got – way – aim – so – need?" said someone who sounded like Moonshine (for example).

After a few minutes, Harry sat down on the floor of the closet, looking around at things and just staring at them with his spectacular vision while fingering his now-pointy ears.

"Can't – knee – out – else's – tombs – no – hat."

"Here – us – elp."

"Black – lee – irks – tomb – knee."

"Guys – er – ing – ild!"

"Ore – ert – sh – ee – orter."

Harry examined the door and found a small crack at the bottom, through which he could hear their conversation more clearly. He laid his head sideways against the crack and listened. He immediately identified Hermione from her voice as the other person in the room outside.

"I don't know, Professors, the top looks see-through to me."

Harry's eyes widened in horror – this was _Hermione_, after all – and he threw himself away from the door, scrambling backwards, and hit the back of the closet with a bang, sending brooms and mops clattering down all around him and making a terrific noise. When the last mop fell down and everything else went quiet, he heard the four outside burst out into laughter. He flushed very red and felt his ears and collar heat up quite a bit. This was definitely _not_ going the way he wanted it to.

Unexpectedly, the door to the closet cracked marginally open, not enough to let him see the room, but enough for Professor Moonshine to poke her head in, a gigantic grin spread wide on her pretty face.

"Eavesdropping, are we?" she asked, her voice strangled with suppressed laughter. Harry felt himself turn an even darker red, and mumbled something incoherent. This, of course, only made the professor fail in her attempt not to laugh. "Well, quit it! We're working with Hermione on her costume, and it's very strictly a _surprise_, so stop trying to listen in because you might not want to hear it –" she winked "– and don't come out either, because she'll probably murder you. Okay?"

All this was said in a very cheerful tone, which didn't stop Harry from trying to cover his face with his hair by pushing it down over his eyes. He nodded barely perceptibly, but she evidently caught the movement, because she withdrew her head from the crack in the door and shut it again, leaving him in the dark. Having learned his lesson now, he stayed put (firmly pressed against the back wall).

About a half hour later, Harry was bored out of his mind, and was actually twiddling his thumbs when the door abruptly opened all the way. The sudden light hurt, and he had to shut his eyes for a moment or two.

"Oh – right, sorry," chirped Professor Brightflame, and shut the door again. Harry squinted this time, and she opened it slowly. "You can come out now," she said unnecessarily. "She's gone. You're gonna just _die_ when you see her costume, Harry! It's all black and cool and –"

Moonshine was suddenly at her side and clamping a hand over Brightflame's mouth, chuckling. "_Anyway_, you'll see it at the ball. Now hurry up, we only have an hour and a half left to get you ready, and who knows what other distractions will come up?"

"All we have to do is get him ears and clothes," remarked Blackstorm from her turtleshell chair across the room from the closet. Moonshine rolled her eyes.

"Yes, but that could take _time_."

"An hour and a half for ears and robes?" was the retort.

"Like I said, further complications could interrupt, like another Hermione coming in needing help with their costume too."

"Has Hermione been cloned?" asked Brightflame, her voice muffled by Moonshine's hand. What she actually said came out more like, "Aw my knee kwo?"

Both other professors rolled their eyes and Moonshine shook her head. "No. Anyway, whatever, something could come up. So let's get started!"

And they did.

Moonshine, obviously being the one who knew the most spells or could perform them the most accurately (or else she just liked to cast spells), executed a charm that just slightly lengthened and thickened Harry's eyelashes, making them look quite Elf-like. Then Blackstorm muttered something and flicked her own wand (which Harry hadn't ever seen her use before – it was made of a dark-coloured wood and long) at him. He felt something pointy pressing all around the rims of his eyes although nothing was there, and then it stopped. All three professors grinned.

"Nice work," commented Brightflame, winking at Blackstorm, who shrugged. Brightflame pointed Harry towards the mirror hanging overtop of the fireplace, and he walked over to it curiously. His eyes widened when he saw himself, and he emitted a small yelp.

"Oh, come on! _Eyeliner?_" he exclaimed. "Is that really _necessary?_"

"It's not eyeliner," grumbled Blackstorm. "It's an Elven thing. And it brings more attention to your eyes."

"What Elf ever wore eyeliner?!" he demanded. All three laughed again.

"It's _not_ eyeliner. And a lot of Elves do."

"Now, time for the grand unveiling! Your robes are in the closet, actually," Moonshine announced with a smile. Harry crossed the room and opened the door, looking inside with the aid of light for a change. He didn't see anything besides some old cloaks, mops, and brooms.

"Uh..."

"Oh, they're behind the other stuff," remembered Brightflame, putting up a finger. Harry pushed aside the cloaks to reach past them, and immediately felt a soft material far back in the closet. On instinct, he pulled it out to look. What was revealed in his hands was different than he'd imagined.

All three professors beamed as he stared at the robes in admiring wonder. "Put them on, put them on!" squealed Brightflame eagerly. Harry turned and lifted an eyebrow at them uncertainly.

"Er, with you all watching?"

They burst into laughter again. "No, sorry, of course not," amended Moonshine. Harry felt a sense of relief and waited for them to leave. "You can change in the closet."

Oh. Well, _fine_ then.

Harry nodded and started to go inside when there was another knock on the door to the office. All three professors exhaled sharply in frustration.

"Ugh! Who is it this time?!" growled Blackstorm, unhappy at being interrupted again. Moonshine threw up her hands and glanced at Harry apologetically, then shoved him back into the closet – robes in hand – and shut the door behind him.

"It'll all pay off later, I promise!" she called from outside. "Just get dressed while you're in there, okay?"

"Okay," Harry agreed, and took his wand out of his pocket. "Lumos." He rested the want on the floor and propped it up on a broomstick so that it pointed upwards to light the whole space. He picked up all the other fallen mops and leaned them against the far wall, then pushed all the cloaks back as well. He proceeded to change into the phenomenal robes that the three professors had made for him. He slipped off his black school ones and his shirt, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He put on the long-sleeved tunic made of among the softest material he'd ever felt, still in awe of the quality it possessed.

Once he had finished dressing completely, Harry decided that he _had_ to know who was out there, so he pressed his ear to the wood of the door. Snape's voice greeted him.

"No, I really _don't_ want to!" he was saying rather forcefully. Harry frowned in confusion and picked his wand up off the floor, wondering what was going on outside. He hesitated, thinking, _Should I peek, or should I just mind my own business?_

Without a second thought, he pointed his wand at the door and whispered, "_Miragio_." The door melted away, and he could see everything. He poked towards the now-empty space and felt wood where there was none. The spell had been effective – he could just see through the door, it was still there, and the others couldn't see him. Harry grinned and leaned back against the wall of the closet to watch.

"Severus, you _can't_ tell us that you're actually not planning to attend the ball," Moonshine was protesting. "I mean, think of the opportunities you're declining by not going!"

"You could hook up with one of the professors and if you don't go, that won't happen!" suggested Brightflame. Snape turned red. Blackstorm and Moonshine lifted their eyebrows skeptically in unison at their friend, who after a minute realized what she had implied. "Oh – not us, I mean. I mean, I'm not saying we wouldn't, but we wouldn't, you know? Or maybe we would, I want to try that Firewhisky stuff. But I'm not saying we need to drink to want you or anything. Not saying that we want you, because we don't. I mean no offense, but like –"

Moonshine clapped a hand over Brightflame's mouth before any more damage was done, and glanced apologetically at Snape, who had turned redder with every comment the enthusiastic professor had made. Blackstorm just closed her eyes and whacked her over the head.

Harry, in the closet, was in a fit of uncontrollable laughter.

"So yeah, anyway, if what you're looking for is a costume, we can get you one. What kind of thing do you have in mind?" asked Blackstorm.

"I told you, I _don't_ want anything, I just came to ask you if you had any Creeping Elastices. I need them for my next three lessons."

"Look, today's Halloween. It's like our _day_! You can't just _not_ go to a Halloween ball!" chirped Brightflame when Moonshine removed her hand. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

Snape sneered. "I don't do fun."

All three professors shook their heads in disapproval. "Nobody doesn't _do_ fun," stated Blackstorm flatly. "Even I do. Sometimes. And Halloween is a day for fun. So everybody has to do it. Even me. And if I have to, _you_ have to. So let's go. What costume do you want?"

"_I don't_ –"

"No, forget what you want. We're cleaning you up. That'll be the best disguise of all," she announced, and the other two nodded in agreement. "Ladies, let's get to work. Hair first!"

Harry was incredibly intrigued, and eager to see what they would do to the hated Potions professor.

It took them a while longer to persuade him, but eventually they did get Snape to calm down enough so that they could conjure a barrel of water and dunk his head in it. Moonshine conjured cleaning supplies, and the three went to work.

Having nothing much better to do but admire his robes and watch Snape be beautified, Harry was really quite bored forty-five minutes later when the three women backed off and let Snape cautiously approach the mirror, which happened to be near the closet, giving Harry a fine firsthand look at his Potions professor – or what he assumed _must_ be his Potions professor underneath somewhere. Snape seemed to be thinking along the same lines.

His eyes grew wide and he warily prodded his own face as an expression of horror came over him. "Is that ... _me?_" he whispered. The three women nodded, beaming.

"Isn't it perfect?" said Brightflame cheerfully. "You're a shoo-in to win the contest now!"

"I'm ... a what ... ?"

"Oh, nevermind," Blackstorm waved her hand impatiently. "Anyway, don't touch anything at all, we worked hard to get you where you are, understand?!"

"Ye... yes, all right ..." Snape said vaguely, still staring dazedly at himself in the mirror.

"Good. Now out you go, and don't forget to come to the ball when it starts. I'll bet they put you on sentry duty anyway," said Moonshine.

"Sentry duty?"

"You know, monitoring the students at the ball. Whatever. Anyway, shoo, and don't mess yourself up!" she called after him as Brightflame led him out of the office and shut the door behind him. All three laughed for a while after he'd gone, and then Moonshine crossed over to the closet door. Harry fumbled quickly for his wand, still overcome by silent repressed laughter.

"_Opaqua_!" he muttered under his breath, and the door melted back into place just as it swung open. The professor gasped when she saw him.

"_Goddess_, you make a damn good Elf!" she said in awed appreciation, looking him up and down. "C'mere, guys, would you just look at him?"

Blackstorm and Brightflame hurried forward and Moonshine drew Harry out of the closet into better lighting to see the full effect that the ears, eyes, and robes gave him all together. The other two were just as impressed as Moonshine. "Well, we certainly know to congratulate ourselves," said Brightflame, nodding to herself.

Blackstorm looked smug. "I _told_ you he'd make a good Elf."

"Yes, we know, Kira," Moonshine rolled her eyes and winked at Harry, who felt his ears burn. "You'll need just a little makeup, but otherwise, you're pretty well ready. Which is good, seeing as you only have half an hour until you should get going."

Harry glanced at a clock on the wall beside the fireplace. "Uh, shouldn't it be starting about now?"

"Well, yes, but you can't go right when it starts, silly, you'll look like a dork!" said Brightflame knowingly. "You have to make an _entrance_. We're all about entrances."

"I noticed," Harry muttered, and the three professors grinned. "Anyway, what do I need makeup for? Haven't I got enough on yet?"

"Not nearly enough! We have to give you Elf markings," commanded Blackstorm, and the other two nodded.

"Markings?"

"Yes, markings," Blackstorm said impatiently. "Sit down." She pushed Harry backwards and he fell into a chair that had not been there a moment before.

They started applying all sorts of things to his face so that he had no idea what was gong on for a while, with what looked like pencils and markers – and was that lipstick on his forehead? – until what seemed liked forever, they'd finished. He had restrained himself from complaining, instead focusing on what he thought he might look like afterwards.

When they'd finally finished, they stepped back to admire their work, and all three nodded in satisfaction. They motioned Harry over to the mirror again, and he had to stare. That wasn't really him, was it? He had a vague feeling of what Snape might have felt however long it was ago.

He looked like an Elf.

But nothing like any house-elf; he looked like an _Elf_. Capital E, no house. He looked taller, stood a little straighter, felt a vague air of regality about himself somehow. He didn't know how to describe the good feeling, other than simply ... well, Elflike.

The professors beamed proudly. "You're ready now," said Blackstorm approvingly.

"Go get 'em, tiger!" squealed Brightflame, earning herself two pair of rolling eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Don't hang around here, you're done now, and you don't want to wait _too_ long to make your entrance or people won't pay attention, so go!" said Moonshine matter-of-factly, and they all shooed Harry out the door, Elflike and all. It was six-thirty. The ball was half an hour underway.

It was time.

Harry made his way alone down to the Great Hall, took a deep breath, adjusted his robes, and pushed open the doors.


	12. Meow

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: Hiiiiiii!!!!! Slavemaster Meg hath returned!!!! Duh. I have to stop saying that every single time I write a chapter ... lol yeah anyway, THIS IS THE CHAPTER OF THE BALL!!!!!!!! The ball the ball the ball the ball the baaaallllllll ... dances around the room sings merrily :D Hehehe! Okay, read on, my loves!!**

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"There! You're done! Now you can go help Ron get ready, okay?" exclaimed Professor Brightflame, clapping her hands delightedly. Hermione nodded and walked over to the mirror. She felt a thrill of wonder pass through her as she took in the costume the three DADA professors had helped her create.

The entire costume was black, with some silver buckles and chains attached in various places. She wore a low-cut top that reminded her of a corset, but not quite as tight as one, and black netting covered her arms from the shoulders down. Leather gloves came up almost to her elbows on both sides, with holes at the tips of each finger to allow her long, silver claws to extend through. Netting emerged at the bottom of the corset-like shirt as well, just covering her stomach. A low-rising black skirt fell to her ankles, loose and long. She couldn't find another word to describe it but flow-y, and it enabled her to move freely. Leather boots rose up her shins to just below her knees, and a choker adorned her neck. A small silver 'C' hung from it.

She wore a small black leather mask that covered her nose and the tops of her cheeks, circling her eyes, which were very defined with eyeliner. Her black, velvety ears rose up through her hair. The four of them had taken forever to straighten it, using more than liberal amounts of Sleekeasy potion. Now it hung longer than it had before, without curls to bounce it up. It fell in straight, brown layers reaching past her shoulders but not far down her back, and when she tossed her head slightly, it did a flippy thing that amused Hermione to no end.

She also had a long, velvety black tail extending from the base of her spine. She particularly loved that part of the costume. It flicked back and forth seemingly of its own accord, and actually helped her keep her balance somewhat.

"Thank you so much for helping me with all this, it looks fantastic!" she said earnestly, and the professors smiled.

"No problem. I bet Harry's bored out of his mind in that closet, though, so shoo!" Moonshine winked, and Hermione laughed good-naturedly.

"Okay, okay. Tell him I'll see him at the ball. Thanks again!" she said, and left the room.

Once she'd made her way back to the Gryffindor common room without managing to be seen, Hermione jumped about a foot in the air when Ron nearly fell over his own feet coming down the stairs from his dormitory. She literally dove onto the couch facing the fire so that her friend couldn't see her, but he'd already looked up. "Uh ... hello?" he asked uncertainly. Hermione grinned to herself – he couldn't tell who she was. Excellent; her costume had been effective.

"Who's there?" Ron asked. She stifled a laugh.

"It's me, go back upstairs! I don't want you seeing my costume!"

"_Hermione_?"

"Yes, you dolt, now shut your eyes!"

"I'll just see it later anyways, what's the big deal? It's just a costume."

"But I want it to be _secret_ so nobody will be able to tell who I am, okay?!" she growled, pressing herself down into the couch so that he couldn't see overtop of it and catch a glimpse of her outfit.

"Okay, okay. I just wanted help with _my_ costume," Ron grumbled, and went back upstairs. Hermione shook her head, made sure nobody else was coming, and hurried up the stairs to the girls' dormitories, heading for the sixth-year ones. Once there, she grabbed a bathrobe that had been hanging on a hook behind the bathroom door. It was about ten sizes too big for her, but it fit comfortably overtop of her whole costume, and it had a hood. She pulled it on, tied it, and drew the hood all the way over her face. She made sure nothing from her feet to her hair could be seen, then made her way down to the common room.

Ron had just come back out. He turned around. "Uh ... Hermione, that you?"

"Yes. Don't even _think_ about trying to take this off, it's covering my costume. Did you want help with yours, or not?" she asked, and Ron, biting his lip to suppress laughter, nodded, and they both went up into his sixth-year boys' dormitory.

Over the next long while, Hermione (still clad in her gigantic bathrobe and covering her eyes (which were amber-coloured and had slitted, catlike pupils) and straight, layered hair) helped Ron get fully ready and into his costume. She performed the long-white-hair-and-beard charm on him, which amused them both. He made her leave the room while he changed into his Dumbledore-esque robes, and when he yelled for her to come back in, she applauded his choice. They were a deep purple with a variety of gold stars, moons and planets embroidered into the fabric.

Hermione fussed about with his hair for about forty-five minutes, trying to get it curly and messy and teased enough to look like Dumbledore's, but not to look like it had been planned that way. Needless to say, Ron got fed up with her multiple times. During each, Hermione snapped crossly, "Do you _want_ my help or not?" and Ron would reluctantly subdue.

They encountered a problem when Hermione told Ron that his eyes had to twinkle.

"What are you _talking_ about, Hermione? Twinkles don't just come!"

"Well you'd better _hope_ they do, or I'll shine my wand constantly into your face so that your eyes will water and _always_ twinkle, got it?" she growled. Ron made a face at her.

"What do you expect me to do about it? I can't just point my wand and say _Twinkus Eyesus_, you know!"

"'_Twinkus eyesus_'?"

"Or whatever! The point is I can't just make my eyes twinkle, so normal will have to do! It's _my_ costume, not yours, anyway! Why are you obsessing?"

"They will _twinkle!_ And I will _win!_ Or, you'll win, and I'll take the credit for it!"

"Hermione, no offense, but you've gone mental." This earned him a whack over the head from her. "What we need is some sort of spell ..."

"A spell to shine light in your eyes!"

"_No!_"

"_Yes!_"

"Arrggh..."

"You can grumble all you want, but your eyes WILL twinkle once I'm through with you, Ronald Weasley!"

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Hermione sent Ron in ahead of her so that she could come in anonymously later. She hurried back up to her dormitory after seeing Ron into the Great Hall (still in her bathrobe), took off the bathrobe, and slipped back down. She entered unnoticed, the way she'd planned. Most of the school population was already there, admiring costumes and trying to figure out who was who. Professor McGonagall was dressed as a Victorian witch, complete with sunhat, lacy dress, hoop skirt and a parasol.

Dumbledore had come as a Muggle banker, complete with clean-cut pinstripe suit and tie, briefcase in hand. The only thing out of place on him was his shoes – they were clown shoes, bright red and made of plastic. Obviously he'd wanted to stand out a bit, or someone had decided to play a practical joke. The other teachers had come as various things from a house-elf (Professor Flitwick) to a Dementor (Professor Sinistra) (more than a few of the younger students warily avoided her).

The decorations were splendid, ranging from live bats to floating jack-o-lanterns to drapes hanging from every possible space on the walls. Cobwebs hung from just about everywhere as well. The walls were lined with poufs and deep, comfy chairs and pillow piles to accommodate those who would choose not to dance later. When Hermione came in, there were small tables scattered all over the floor, each with about ten chairs around them and place settings at each chair. The Halloween feast would soon begin.

She looked around for Ron, and spotted him over by a small group of others who she assumed to be Harry, Seamus and Dean. When she'd made her way over to them, they all looked up. Two of them – she couldn't immediately tell whom – whistled.

"Me-ow! How you doin'?" said a football player from under his helmet. He looked her boldly up and down and nodded his head in lecherous approval.

"Hey, kittie cat! How about we share a bowl of cream?" said the other whistler, dressed up as Dracula. Hermione could now tell who each was – Dean was the football player, and Seamus was Dracula. It was painfully obvious that neither of them knew who _she_ was underneath the mask and costume, however. They were both still checking her out, while Ron and a solid, non-transparent Nearly Headless Nick (Neville) gaped openly at her.

Harry was not there.

Regardless, Hermione narrowed her catlike amber eyes at Seamus and Dean and lifted one carefully sculpted eyebrow (courtesy of professor Brightflame). "You two are _prime_ examples of why girls become lesbians," she said dryly, and whacked them both over their heads. Ron laughed at the stinging put-down she had delivered, and then peered closely at her.

"_Hermione?_ That's a ... new look for you," he stammered slowly, eyebrows threatening to disappear into his hair.

"Shut your mouth," she said crossly, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in her revealing costume. "Come on, let's get a table."

Neville wouldn't stop staring at her, and stood up when Ron did to follow her. Seamus and Dean rose as well, seemingly stunned by the fact that it was Hermione-the-know-it-all-bookworm in the sexy catgirl outfit. She rolled her eyes at all of them and made her way over to an unoccupied table, the four boys following at her heels. She tried not to notice the eyes flicking her way as she passed by; it both amused and bothered her. It was certainly a different experience.

She spotted Ginny in the crowd, dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess (where she learned who that was, Hermione would never know), and waved her over. Ginny brought three of her fifth-year friends with her and they all sat down, chatting eagerly and admiring Hermione's costume excitedly. Ginny laughed long and hard when she recognized her brother in his Dumbledore guise.

Harry had still not shown up. "Have any of you seen Harry?" Hermione asked to the people sitting at the table. "He was supposed to meet us here."

"Nope, haven't seen him," Ron shrugged. Neville still wasn't speaking, only staring, and Seamus and Dean both shook their heads vaguely. Ginny and her friends hadn't either. Hermione rolled her eyes; they were no help. She started drumming her silver claws in rapid succession on the tabletop, resting her chin in her other hand. Ron pointed out that she was going to carve holes in the wood, and she just glared at him.

Every time the doors to the Great Hall opened, almost everyone looked up to see who was arriving. No music was playing yet, and only the din of various conversations filled the air, so the doors were easy to hear. Each time, Harry didn't appear. The teachers were starting to head towards the High Table, and students were all gathering with their friends and sitting down, looking ready to eat. No food filled the golden dishes. Finally, the doors opened again, and in walked someone almost unrecognizable but for his messy black hair and bright green eyes.


	13. The Ball

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: HULLO, I know, lots many chapters being updated in quick rapid-fire succession! W00T! FUNFUNFUNFUNFUN:D:D Yes! Slavemaster Meg equals w00t! XD Whilst I describe the characters' costumes, I am _not _using any pictures as references. These are purely out of my own imagination along with that of dear Slavemaster Meg's.**

**I apologize in advance for any pure obviousness that I put into this chapter. It's just foreshadowing for the future, and this really is the _perfect _place to put it in. You'll see what I mean later, lol. **

**About Dean's football team – I'm sorry if I got it wrong, I had to make it up because I don't have the books on hand for reference purposes. They are now the _West Ham Avengers_. :D Hehehe. **

**Slavemaster Meg recently read a Batman comic. So ... don't ask later. Especially as she has become obsessed with him now. So yeah. She can't wait until the new Batman movie comes out. "Woot." ... She's almost as obsessed with Batman as I am with Harry. grin**

**Anyway, ta-ta, darlings, love you all. Thank you for reviewing:)**

**Enjoy!**

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Harry took a deep breath, adjusted his robes, and pushed open the doors.

There had been a considerable level of noise in the Great Hall before, but now it quieted slightly as people caught a look at Harry and his costume. (A/N: I believe it is time I described it to you.)

He was wearing a dark emerald green tunic, matching his eyes, that came down to his lower thighs, tied at the waist by a gold cord. It was embroidered with leaf patterns all over. The sleeves billowed loosely and hung down just above the tips of his fingers. Underneath he wore loose black breeches and black leather boots coming up to just below his knees, with silver ties. Overtop of it all, he wore a long, flowing black robe, sleeveless, embroidered with foreign silver designs. Altogether, it gave everyone a sense of otherworldly royalty.

The tips of his long, pointed ears protruded from beneath his still messy raven hair. The lightning-shaped scar on his forehead was barely visible. On his face were strange markings that added to the effect. A black upside-down triangle hung underneath his left eye. Both eyes were pronounced and fully emphasized by dark eyeliner, making them look bigger and somehow deeper.

Mouths dropped all over the Great Hall as nearly everyone stared, people leaning back and across their friends to get a look at him. Harry felt very self-conscious. He hadn't wanted to draw _this_ much attention.

He looked quickly around for Ron and Hermione, and grinned as he spotted his friend sitting at one of the tables. Harry made his way over to them, and sat down in the one empty seat in between 'Dumbledore' and a football player. Slowly, the conversation level of noise rose back up to what it had been before, although people were still making an effort to catch a glimpse of Harry.

"Bloody good costume, mate!" Ron grinned, slapping Harry on the back after he sat down. "Those three sure know what they're doing! Oh, by the way, did Professor Brightflame mention me at all?"

Harry laughed and shook his head. "No, sorry. But they did keep throwing me in a closet and locking me in there for _long_ stretches at a time. That got boring, I can tell you."

"What'd they chuck you in a _closet_ for?" Ron wanted to know. Harry grinned at how much his friend looked like the Headmaster and shook his head.

"Dunno. I think they were helping other people with their costumes as well," he said, and looked around Ron at Hermione. His eyebrows shot up.

"Well. _You_ look ... different," Harry said finally. Hermione glared at him.

"Where'd your glasses go?" she asked. Ron hit himself in the forehead.

"I _knew_ there was something missing!" he exclaimed. Harry and Hermione laughed.

"Moonshine did some spell that corrected my vision for a while. She didn't know how long it would last, but it's working so far. They said something like 'Elves don't wear glasses'."

"No offense, but you don't look much like a house-elf, mate."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I'm not a _house-_elf, Ron. I'm an Elf, capital E. Don't ask – they thought it up, not me. Anyway, like it?"

"The costume? It's bloody brilliant, mate," Ron replied. Hermione was slower to respond.

"Oh – yes, it's very effective," she said matter-of-factly, playing with her gold dinner fork. Every time Harry looked at her, he took in more of her costume. If his was effective, hers was _very_ effective. He'd never seen her in something so ... _different_ before. It wasn't the most revealing thing he'd ever seen, but it was enough. Her hair was straight and layered, too.

And her amber _eyes_. They were attention grabbing; almost hypnotizing to watch. Harry caught himself staring, and blinked a couple of times to clear his head. Ron was looking at him oddly.

"Hello-o? Earth to Harry, anyone in there?" Ron asked, knocking lightly on Harry's forehead. "I _said_, are Brightflame and the other two coming to the ball?"

"Sorry. I don't know – I would think so, almost everyone else has," Harry replied. Ron sighed longingly.

"I hope she comes. I wonder what she'll be dressed as. D' you think she might be an Egyptian princess or something? That would be _brilliant_..." Ron looked off into the distance and entered his own little fantasy world. Harry rolled his eyes at his friend and turned to the football player on his other side.

"Dean?" he asked, and the football player nodded, pointing to his chest. The shirt read _West Ham Avengers_ – Dean's favourite Muggle team. Harry nodded in understanding and looked past him to Dracula. "Seamus," he said, and the other boy nodded.

"Nice costume there, Harry," he said in approval. Harry grinned.

"Thanks. Why, Nick, you're not see-through!" he said to Neville, seated by Seamus. Neville raised his eyebrows.

"I'm not Nearly Headless Nick, I'm Neville, just so you know," he said earnestly. Harry fought very hard to keep a straight face.

"I know, Neville. I know," he said. "Good costume, though."

"Thanks!" Neville beamed. "I spent hours putting on all sorts of white powder on my face and hair and my hands, and do you know, I had hardly any white clothes, I had to borrow nearly all of it."

"Huh. Uh ... Ginny?" Harry guessed at the girl sitting on Neville's other side. She was dressed as Xena the Warrior Princess, and she nodded, grinning.

"I once saw an episode of _Xena_ when I was at a Muggle-born friend's house, and I decided to dress up as her," Ginny explained cheerfully. Harry swallowed. Now _her_ outfit was revealing. She certainly had come out of her shy shell since last year, he thought to himself. He didn't know any of her three friends, so he didn't bother trying to guess who they were as his eyes traveled around the table, coming to rest (once again) on Hermione, who was now talking to Ron.

Dumbledore – the real Dumbledore – stood up at the High Table, and silence gradually fell over the hall. "I have three announcements to make," he announced once he had everyone's attention. "Firstly, after the Halloween feast has finished, the first, second- and third-years will be escorted back to their respective dormitories by their Heads of Houses to have a games night. Secondly, during the ball, there will be no _skedoodling_ on the dance floor or anywhere in the immediate vicinity of the dance floor. Thirdly, it is my command that each and every one of you have fun tonight. For now, enjoy your meal!" he said, and everyone tucked in as the golden dishes were filled with food.

A few seconds later, there was yelling outside in the Entrance Hall.

"Get your ass moving!"

"We spent time working on you, so get in there!"

"Come _on!_"

Apart from the frustrated yells coming from what sounded like Brightflame, Moonshine and Blackstorm was an unearthly howl of agony that sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, but not really. The doors to the Great Hall were pushed open yet again, and in stomped _someone_, dragging behind them an unwilling man; it was difficult to tell who he was. But the one dragging him in was nearly unrecognizable.

After close examination, it turned out to be professor Blackstorm. She was wearing all black, with a leather corset-like device for a top, with purple silk underneath it. A Batman-esque (A/N: for lack of a better descriptive word) cape hung from a collar around her neck and was attached to the wrists of her long gloves. The gloves didn't cover her fingers, just ending after the palm. (Hand socks, but leather.) Her pants were not tight but not baggy either, and her leather boots came up to her knees. They had shiny silver buckles all the way up. She had black markings on her face similar to Harry's, but more.

The dark triangle under her eye was jagged and rough around the edges, and there were two parallel, horizontal triangles on her other cheek. A pitch-black diamond-shaped stone was set onto the middle of her forehead, and she had dark makeup on. Her ears were like Harry's: long and pointy. The students assumed she was an Elf as well, then, but a more modern, scary one.

The man she was dragging into the Hall snarled at her. "I told you time and time _again_, I do _not want to be here!_"

Everyone gawked. The voice belonged to none other than Severus Snape. But was it?

His hair was _fluffy_; it didn't look greasy at all, and it almost ... _bounced_ ... as he walked forward. (A/N: Well, as he was dragged forward.) The unhealthy pallor that usually adorned his skin was gone; now he looked like he was made of porcelain. It was so unusual, unnatural, and all-around _wrong_ that at first, many refused to believe that it actually was Snape. But under further inspection, it turned out to be quite true, and he appeared to be solid, so perhaps it wasn't just a well-crafted illusion. He really _could_ look clean if he wanted to (A/N: or if some very determined, very beautiful women wanted him to).

"Well, now that you _are_ here, you might as well shut up about it!" Blackstorm growled at him, yanking him toward the High Table by the sleeve of his robes. Reluctantly, he moved after her, and stopped grumbling. Or, rather, he stopped grumbling _loudly_. The students' attention shifted, however, at the sound of agonized yowling from outside the doors. Brightflame's back appeared through them, wearing a dress of all reds, oranges, yellows and pinks; her entire costume flickered with hungry flames, and although they gave off considerable heat, they didn't burn.

She was desperately holding onto hands that were tied together with a strong strip of leather. However sadistic/masochistic that may sound, it was purely for his own good. It turned out to be Elendil, in all his female-attracting, silver haired glory. He was struggling for all he was worth in an attempt to somehow avoid the inevitable draggage of himself into the Great Hall by Brightflame and whoever was pushing him from behind.

"I hate parties, I hate people, I hate dancing, I hate balls!" he was moaning. Blackstorm growled at him over her shoulder from up ahead.

"Do you also hate good free food?"

Elendil paused and pondered this for a moment, and Brightflame seized her chance. She yanked on his wrists as hard as she could, and he stumbled forward into the Great Hall. Moonshine was pushing him from behind and straightened up as Brightflame took over, using Elendil's momentum to get him up to the high table. If not every male's jaw was dropped at their STUNNING BEAUTY already, they all were now.

Moonshine was wearing all green with blue streaks. The airy and flowy material of her shirt and pants was sheer and layered, rustling and shifting with every movement she made. Her hair was quite different than the long golden brown it had been; now it was just above her shoulders, layered and choppy, and was a deep auburn-red colour. Green, flowered vines seemed to grow out of her very skin; they surrounded her and twisted themselves about her body. But all these things paled in comparison to the massive wings sprouting out from her shoulder blades.

They were a myriad of colours, ranging through all the colours of the rainbow and more. They all seemed to blend together and seemed to be constantly moving around. The edges of the wings, which extended down to the floor and about four feet above Moonshine's head, were jagged and long. The wings themselves were translucent, and fluttered slightly in a nonexistent breeze.

She looked around at the drooling students who were watching her, Blackstorm and Brightflame and rolled her eyes.

"Shut your traps, all of you. Have you never seen girls before?" she drawled, and impatiently followed her two coworkers up to the high table and helped them keep Snape and Elendil down.

Dumbledore looked on curiously until they had all sat down, and then couldn't keep in his question any longer. "Professors, would you care to introduce Master...?"

"Elendil Losshelin. He's my cousin," said Moonshine. Dumbledore lifted an eyebrow.

"Your cousin, Professor?" asked McGonagall inquiringly.

"Yes. My cousin. Elendil. I hope you don't mind his coming, Headmaster," Moonshine reiterated. "His visit was rather _unexpected_ for me, as well."

"Just can't stay away from my dear old cousin," Elendil piped up, earning himself a glare.

"Old! _You're_ calling _me_ old!" Moonshine said accusingly, and instantly a vine appeared in her hand. "If I remember correctly, you're far older than I am. By a LOT!"

Elendil looked bored. "Oh, bother to you. Killjoy."

"I'M a ki–?"

"Yes, well, it's lovely to meet you, Master Losshelin," Dumbledore interrupted gracefully.

"Please, Elendil. A pleasure to meet you as well, Headmaster."

"Sure, you're utterly polite to _him_..." grumbled Moonshine, just loud enough for most of the students to hear her and laugh. When Dumbledore turned back to the room at large, Elendil stuck his tongue out of the side of his mouth at Moonshine, who glowered.

"Welcome, students, to our Halloween Ball!" Dumbledore said, raising his arms for silence, which immediately fell. "I trust you have all found a place to sit at a table with your friends. After the feast, the first, second- and third-years will all go with their respective Heads of Houses to their common rooms, where a games night will take place. Here in the Great Hall, the dancing shall begin. I beg of you not to be shy and to all shake your booties to your hearts' content. And one last piece of advice: never go anywhere without yourself! Tuck in!"

Amid laughter and applause, the students heartily did so.

"So, have you heard the news?" Seamus asked during dessert. He leaned in closer to Harry, Ron, Dean and Neville. "There's a rumour going around that You-Know-Who is back!"

Simultaneously, all four other boys whacked him over the head and flicked food into his face.

"Okay, okay, I was making a _joke!_ I actually did have something to say, though," he said in defense. "Listen. I heard that You-Know-Who has actually been sighted all over Europe in the past couple of months, but they're trying to keep it hush-hush still. I think the last place they saw him was somewhere in Greece."

The boys' eyes widened. "You – you're not putting us on, are you?" Neville asked nervously. Seamus shook his head, deadly serious.

"No, mate. Me mum read a tiny article mentioning it in the corner of a page in Witch Weekly – it was only three lines long. Someone really doesn't want the public to know, probably to stop widespread panic."

"Blimey," breathed Dean, just as Ron exclaimed, "Bloody hell!" under his breath. Neville had turned pale.

"I wonder what he's up to now," Harry said grimly. The other boys turned to look at him, and Ron tentatively opened his mouth to ask a question.

"Have you ... er ... had any ... ahem ... any dreams, like you did last year? Something to tell you what's going on?"

"No."

"What are you all talking about?" asked Hermione, looking around Harry at the five boys. They had all opened their mouths to say something different when Dumbledore stood up and silence fell.

"Now that you have all finished your food, it is time for the ball to start! Everyone up, please!" he said, and as the student body stood up, all the chairs and tables moved quickly to the sides of the hall, stacking themselves into neat little piles – the food and plates had already disappeared. "Third-years and below, you know what to do! Let the dancing begin!"

As the younger kids made their way out of the Great Hall, music began to play from the High Table. Everyone looked up at it; a band of five wizards and witches were playing and singing. A few students started moving out onto the floor, and at their brave acts, soon almost everyone was dancing.

Harry, Ron and Hermione casually stood against the wall, talking, when they happened to overhear a group of the teachers having a conversation as they passed slowly by.

"So, whereabouts do you come from, Master Losshelin?" Snape asked shrewdly. Elendil gestured vaguely.

"Oh, here and there, and around. I was born in – uh – Hathersage Booths, but I travel a lot, never really stay in one place for long."

"Hathersage _Booths_, you say?"

"Yes, that's in ... Somerset. West of London, you know."

"Of course..." Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but didn't say anything further. Flitwick took over the questioning now.

"Your hair and eyes are quite interesting colours," he commented. "What kind of spell did you use?"

"Oh, the uh, hahaha isn't that funny, I can't seem to..."

Blackstorm punched Elendil lightly on the arm. "Go on, tell the man. Actually, Professor Flitwick, it was the –"

"Oh, yes! I remember now!" Elendil interrupted, his eyes lighting up. "The blah charm. It's very effective. I've gotten so used to using it I completely forgot what it was called ... I just say the words automatically now."

"I see, that's very interesting."

"So why again are you _here, exactly?_" Snape asked, looking carefully at Elendil to measure his response. The silver-haired man smiled broadly.

"I can't keep away from my dear cousin!" he said, wrapping an arm around Moonshine's shoulders and noogieing the top of her head. She forced a smile of her own onto her face and poked him in the side.

"And where will you be staying, Master Losshelin?" Professor Sinistra asked Moonshine. Her wings were folded over and were now acting as a translucent, shimmering cloak-like object for her. She grinned.

"He's staying in Darkira's rooms. It's already been arranged," she said, just a hint of malevolency in her tone. Both Blackstorm and Elendil choked and coughed in unison, glaring furiously at the winged woman. She ignored them cheerfully. "Oh, yes," she went on, grinning even more widely, "her quarters are bigger than mine are, and Fiora's are the smallest of all. There was really no other option."

Now the group of teachers had passed beyond earshot, and Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked at each other, not knowing quite what to think. Ron shrugged.

"Well."

"Shouldn't technically Elendil be staying with Moonshine, since they're cousins?" Hermione asked, lifting her eyebrows skeptically. Harry nodded.

"I would think so. But whatever, it's not our business. Oh – that reminds me – speaking of something being none of our business, apparently Voldemort's been sighted all over Europe lately. Seamus's mother read a three-line-long article in Witch Weekly about it."

"Really? Goodness..." she said in a low voice, eyes wide. Ron nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Scary, eh?"

"For this next song, I'd like to make a special request!" bellowed one of the singers suddenly. Everyone looked in her direction. "_Everybody_ has to dance to this one!" All the people standing against the wall around the room swallowed. "If you don't, we'll make you, too! What's the point of a ball if nobody's on the floor, anyway? Come on, get up on your feet!" she cried, and reluctantly, all the students moved forward.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked uncomfortably at each other. "Er..." said Harry, and then Ginny popped up out of nowhere between him and Ron.

"Gah!" cried the tall redhead. "Where'd _you_ come from!"

"Ron, everyone has to dance! Come, my friend Laura has a crush on you," Ginny said matter-of-factly, taking a firm hold of Ron's sleeve and turning to Harry. "You want me to find you someone, too?"

"No thanks!" Harry said, his voice strangely high-pitched, and he quickly slung an arm around Hermione's shoulders. "We're good!"

"Okay," Ginny shrugged, and dragged Ron into the crowd. He managed to yelp for help, but as neither Harry nor Hermione wanted to be subjected to Ginny's matchmaking, they just laughed and waved. When the two Weasleys had disappeared, Harry removed his arm and they turned to look at each other.

"Right. So, uh, shall we dance?" he said nervously, and Hermione laughed.

"Sure." The music started playing, and she fell easily into the rhythm. Harry stood rather stiffly, however, and became very worried. "What?"

"How do you do it?"

"Do what, dance?"

"Yeah, that."

"Oh! How typical. The girl has to teach the guy how to dance," Hermione laughed, shaking her head. "Here, I'll show you." Over the course of the song, she made him shift his weight from one foot to the other in small steps and bob his head slightly to the beat. He really was hopeless; he'd trip over his own feet (or, on occasion, other people's feet), and couldn't seem to loosen up. His whole body was still very stiff by the end of the song, and he felt extremely relieved that it was over.

"Where do you think you're going?" Hermione asked when he started to walk towards the side of the room again. He looked at her, unsure of what to expect.

"Uh ... the song's over. I'm going to go sit down."

"You aren't going _anywhere_ until you learn how to dance, mister," she grinned, and tugged him back into place. He paled slightly.

"All it is, is moving from side to side!" he protested.

"Yeah, and you still can't do it," she countered, sticking her tongue out at him. "Like I said – you can't sit down until you can move."

"That makes no sense," Harry muttered, but didn't try to escape. He knew he wouldn't get very far. When the next song started, Hermione resumed her instruction on how to dance. She tried and tried to get him to loosen up, always keeping at least a foot of space between them so that he wouldn't be nervous and become immobile again.

She wouldn't let him leave until three songs later, when he had sufficiently learned how to flow to the rhythm to Hermione's satisfaction.

"We'd better go find Ron," Harry said with a laugh when she finally said he was good enough. He wiped sweat off his brow – it was _hot_ in there – and she nodded. They left the floor and walked around the edges of the Great Hall in search of their friend. They hadn't seen hide or hair of him since Ginny had dragged him off earlier. When they finally spotted him, he was surrounded by a group of fifth-year girls, and he looked absolutely petrified.

Laughing, Harry and Hermione came over and rescued him from the girls, and sat him down on the opposite side of the Hall from them. He immediately started yelling.

"_Where have you two BEEN!_ I haven't been able to escape them for about a bloody century! They're all giggly and, 'aren't _you_ the cutest little Dumbledore! We love your costume!'" he said, doing a ridiculous impression of an eyelash-batting girl. Harry couldn't stop laughing, and Hermione was having trouble controlling herself as well. Ron rolled his eyes at them and crossed his arms. "BOTHER you two!"

Just then, a man in normal wizard's robes hurried up to them and grabbed Ron's arm, taking him aside a foot or two away. He looked serious and worried. Harry and Hermione looked at Ron, who shrugged in confusion.

"Professor Dumbledore," the man said in a low, urgent voice, "I have a message from the Order. You-Know-Who was just sighted in Rome. He Disapparated almost immediately, but the witness was positive it was him – he took the Angevellius Key from the catacombs underneath Vatican City!"

"He took the what from the who under _where?_" Ron asked, completely and utterly baffled. The man looked strangely at him.

"Dumbledore?"

"No, I'm Ron!" cried Ron. "This is just my costume – it's Halloween, man!"

The man paled to nearly white. "Bloody f–"

"Excuse me, is something the matter?" asked Dumbledore, striding up through the sea of students and coming to stand beside Ron and the man. Ron shrugged helplessly, and the man looked intensely relieved.

"Dumbledore?" he asked, and the headmaster nodded briskly.

"What is it, Alan?"

"An urgent message from the Order," Alan replied, and the two walked away quickly.

Hermione and Harry came in close to Ron, who looked at them with wide eyes in complete confusion. "What on earth was _that_ about?" he asked quietly.

"Frankly, I have no idea," Hermione said, "but I get the feeling that whatever it was, was important."

"Me too," agreed Harry. "I feel like we're in first year again, trying to figure out who Nicolas Flamel was."

"What, you want to go look up the Angels of Hell Key?"

"The _Angevellius_ Key, Ron," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't you listen at all? That man said Voldemort took it from the catacombs underneath Vatican City – that's in Rome, Italy. We can start looking there."

"You want us to go to _Italy?_"

"No, you idiot, I'm saying we can start by researching catacombs there, see if we can find anything of interest. How on earth would we have gotten to Italy anyway?"

"I dunno, Apparate or something."

"_We don't know how to Apparate_. And besides which we're underage, making it illegal."

"Shut up, you two," Harry finally interrupted, shaking his head. "Arguing about stupid things won't get us any closer to finding out what Voldemort's up to. I think we should go to the library."

"What, now? The party's only just started, can't we worry about it later?"

Harry and Hermione both looked at Ron incredulously, then turned and started to make their way through the crowd of dancing students in the direction of the exit. Ron hurried to catch up with them. "What? What did I say?"

Twenty feet from the doors, Ginny-Warrior-Princess popped out from nowhere again. "You have a knack for doing that," was Harry's comment. She grinned and grabbed her brother.

"Laura's been looking _all_ over for you, Ron!" she exclaimed over the loud music. "Come on, she'll be _so_ disappointed if you just leave her cold like this!" Ignoring Ron's terrified protests, she dragged him away and they soon disappeared into the masses. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, biting their lips to stop themselves from laughing, and then both decided that there was no point.

"Think we should start looking in the library anyway?" Hermione asked when they'd finished. Harry shrugged and nodded.

"Why not? After all, it's not as if Ron likes doing research," he said reasonably, and they started to leave again. Ten feet from the doors, they were interrupted once more, this time by Seamus in his Dracula costume. He sauntered up to Hermione and placed his arm around her waist while holding her hand with his other hand.

"I'd suck your blood any day, my dear," he said suavely into her ear. Hermione blinked blankly at him for a few seconds, then slipped out of his grasp.

"That would be painful on my part, so no thanks," she replied smoothly, and determinedly didn't look at Harry as she continued making her way out of the Great Hall. He was laughing so hard his eyes were tearing up, but it wasn't over yet.

Justin Finch-Fletchley came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. It was hard to tell in the relatively dim lighting and with all the dancing students around them, but he was blushing. Hermione turned around to look at him. "Yes?"

"Er ... uh ... do you want to dance?" he asked bashfully. Harry snorted, a few feet away. Hermione sighed and rested her hands on her hips.

"Justin, I'm flattered, really, but I was actually just leaving."

Justin flushed hotly, and nodded, looking down. "Oh, okay."

"Oh, god, I didn't mean it like that," Hermione said exasperatedly. "Sorry – ugh, now I feel horrid," she complained to Harry as Justin turned and walked away. "It's not fair."

Harry couldn't keep a straight face. "Oh, poor you to have everyone think you're gorgeous," he said sarcastically. Hermione was about to reply snappishly when a gaggle of girls, headed by Lavender and Parvati, swarmed up and surrounded him.

"Harry, Harry, come dance with us!" they were all saying excitedly – with far too much giggling, in Harry's opinion – and he looked desperately at Hermione.

"Help!" he mouthed at her, but she simply crossed her arms over her chest and stood back, watching as the girls took him away, and laughed. Her smug moment was completely ruined by Dean.

"I'm going in!" he yelled, and charged at her from the side. She didn't have enough time to react, and in one fluid movement that he had obviously practiced for hours on end, he swept her whole body up over his shoulder and started carrying her away, amid much cheering from about twenty other boys. Even as Harry was being taken prisoner by the girls, he couldn't help laughing at Hermione's predicament.

She, Harry and Ron all stayed separate for about an hour, each occasionally and unsuccessfully trying to escape from their own group. However, all three gradually started to enjoy themselves.

Ron really didn't mind having ten-odd girls fawning over him and exclaiming how cute his costume was. Hermione, although slightly bruised from Dean's tackle earlier, had loosened up and was dancing with a group of boys and some girls from various houses. And although Harry was still relatively uncomfortable, he got used to the girls, and was allowing them to teach him more about how to dance. This didn't necessarily mean he actually got any better, but he was beginning to have fun.

At around ten o' clock, Harry and Ron met up when their groups of girls collided and the older girls merged with the younger ones. "_Harry!_" Ron cried over the music, and waded through the girls to his friend. "So glad I found you, mate, they were becoming unbearably repetitive! 'Oh, you're so cute, I love your costume, and oh you're so cute I love your beard, oh you 're so cute I love your glasses,' on and ON and _ON!_"

Harry laughed. "Come on, let's go find Hermione," he said, and they somehow got out off the dance floor and sank down onto poufs at the edge of the room.

"Thought we were going to find Hermione?" Ron asked, and Harry shook his head tiredly, letting it flop back.

"Let her come to us, mate," he grinned, and Ron laughed. Surprisingly enough, they sat there for half an hour chatting, and she didn't magically show up. After a while Harry decided he'd had enough partying for one night, and stood up to go find their friend and leave. Ron wasn't so sure.

"I dunno, I kind of like dances," he said casually, and Harry shrugged.

"Suit yourself." He maneuvered through the crush of constantly moving bodies and located Hermione in the midst of a group of people on the other side of the room. She came over as soon as she saw him, smiling happily, her face flushed and her straightened hair slightly messy. He liked her hair that way. For no reason at all that he could think of, he found himself blushing.

"Hi, Harry! Where've you been?" she asked cheerfully when he was close enough to hear her over the din.

"Oh, just dancing," he grinned at her, and she laughed. "I'm tuckered out, though, think I'll head up to Gryffindor Tower. You coming?"

"Yeah, I've been dancing nonstop for forever, my feet are killing me!" she agreed. "Where's Ron?"

"He wanted to stay, don't ask me why," Harry said, and she shrugged as they turned to leave. This time they made it all the way to the doors without being stopped, but just as they were about to slip outside, they opened, and Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall came in. When Harry thought about it, he hadn't noticed that any of them had gone, but he hadn't seen them during the approximate two hours that had passed since Dumbledore had left with the strange man named Alan.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Hermione called as the other two teachers walked past them into the crowded room.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

"We couldn't help – overhearing what that man was saying to Ron earlier," Harry said. Dumbledore looked ever grimmer than he had when he came in. "We'd like to know what he was talking about."

"I'm afraid I can't tell you that, Harry, and I believe you know why," Dumbledore said quietly. Harry had expected this answer, but still wasn't exactly pleased about it.

"With all due respect, Professor –" he began, but the headmaster cut him off before he could get any further.

"I'm sorry, Harry, and I understand the situation you are in, but I simply cannot disclose information such as this to you. It is strictly the business of the Order, and as you are not old enough to be included in Order activities as of yet, I am sorry but I can't. Now, if you'll please excuse me, I have an announcement to make."

Harry turned to Hermione, frustrated, and she touched him sympathetically on the arm, but both knew that there was nothing productive they could say. (Note: Harry really wanted to complain, but as it wasn't productive, and Hermione was turning to look up at the stage, he didn't.) Hermione turned to look up at the stage where Dumbledore had moved to stand, the band making sufficient room for him as the music stopped. Everyone quieted.

"Hogwartians," he said with a smile, "it is time for me to announce the winners of tonight's costume contest. I shall first address the teachers. The female victor is none other than our very own Professor McGonagall, for her amazing duplication of a Victorian Muggle."

The room rang with applause as McGonagall came forward and received a large bag of chocolate and sweets from the headmaster, smiling. Dumbledore turned back to the room. "And the male winner is of course Professor Flitwick, for his wonderful imitation of a mouse!"

The tiny old wizard somehow made his way up to the stage and also received a large bag full of sweets from the headmaster. He turned to the students. "And now the moment you have all been waiting for – the winners of the student costume contest! The female winner is Susan Bones, for her outstanding representation of Frankenstein's bride!"

The girl came happily up onto the stage amidst cheers and shook Dumbledore's hand, knowing that her prize would come over winter break. He turned back to the room at large for the final time, and smiled. "And finally, the last winner of a prize tonight, the male student victor is Ronald Weasley, for his stupendous impersonation of myself!"

Harry and Hermione cheered wildly from the doors as their friend made his way up to the stage, whooping, and shook Dumbledore's hand enthusiastically. He spotted them from the stage, and waved, laughing in delight. It really was remarkable how much he resembled the headmaster. Hermione leaned close and said in Harry's ear, "Do you think that's what he'll look like when he's old?"

Harry burst out laughing.


	14. Living A Nightmare

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: Hullo. This chapter will be superbly awesome, if I do say so myself. And I do. And so does Slavemaster Meg. Read the next part, please.**

**WARNING! WARNING!**

**By the way, this is the darkest chapter yet. For those of you who don't like violence (and worse), when you see these letters**

**XXX**

**please skip on until you see them again, like**

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**this. I really do want to keep my rating PG-13, so please, know your own limits and don't complain about it, saying I didn't warn you. Because I did. In fact, I still am. Enjoy!**

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As Harry removed his glasses and pulled the sheets up over his shoulders, his thoughts were on the strange man named Alan. What in the seven hells was the Angevellius Key? Or more importantly, what was Voldemort going to do with it? Why was it being kept underneath Vatican City? Questions swirled madly around in his head as he tried to force his mind to be blank and allow him to sleep, and closed his eyes. 

The sudden loud, disturbing screech of a bat made them snap open again as he tried to throw back the covers.

But he was no longer in his bed.

He stared around in shock, taking in his new surroundings. Ugly, twisted stalagmites rose up out of the hard ground, and dripping stalactites loomed ominously overhead, seemingly poised to break off and crush him. Harry whirled around, desperate to know where this cave was and what he was doing there. It was relatively small, and smelled quite damp. The only light came from up ahead, around a corner, casting eerie shadows all about him. The only sound he could hear was the _drip drip drip_ of water onto rock.

There was nothing else for it. Harry cautiously, still not quite over the fact that he had been somehow transported to wherever the hell he was, made his way forward. "H-hello?" he ventured, his voice echoing more loudly than he'd anticipated. The light flickered. Moving slowly, he came around the corner and entered the much larger cave before him.

All he could tell of the room was that it was much larger, was lit by torches, and there was someone in the middle of it. Then a piercingly, blindingly bright light burst out into his vision. He quickly put up his hands to shield himself, and rubbed his eyes. When the light subsided, he blinked spots away and slowly lowered his hands, then let out a strangled scream as a searing pain shot across the scar on his forehead.

Stumbling backwards, he tried to get away from the man in the center of the room before he could see Harry. A strange sensation, cold and tingly, swept through him, and a black-cloaked form appeared abruptly in front of him. "What the –?" Harry gasped, realizing that he had just passed completely through someone else. He tentatively reached out and tried to touch the cloak, but his hand went right through, as if he were a ghost. The odd feeling lingered as long as his hand was inside, but he pulled it out almost immediately, rubbing it uncomfortably.

Harry held his breath and stepped forward through the person again, then turned around to see who it was. Behind the Death Eater mask were cold grey eyes, not noticing Harry at all, fixed on the man in the middle of the cave. Harry guessed instinctively that it was Lucius Malfoy, judging by the fact that he was one of Voldemort's strongest supporters, there were about four other Death Eaters standing beside him, and the man in the middle of the room was, in fact, Voldemort himself.

Harry whirled around again, trying to see what his nemesis was doing that had so adamantly captured the attention of his followers. Moving slowly forward, Harry decided to try something.

"Can – can you see me? Can you hear me?" he said loudly, his shaking voice reverberating off the walls of the cave and echoing for a stretched-out time before finally disappearing. No one in the room took the slightest notice whatsoever. Satisfied that none of them knew he was there, he walked hesitantly forward until he could see clearly the objects set out before Voldemort on a large slab of rock.

A glowing orb, presumably the source of the light that had blinded him earlier, hung in midair above an open book. The book looked ancient, and was lying on an altar in front of the slab. On the slab itself was a large, long silver sword that was covered in miniscule black writing. Harry couldn't read it – it didn't look human. There was also a large feather made of white opal, about a foot long. It showed brief flickers of various colours as the light caught it. The last object was a deep clay bowl, empty. It looked very plain compared to the sword and feather on either sides of it.

Voldemort was murmuring under his breath, Harry noticed as he came closer. The snakelike eyes were reading from the book. Not really wanting to know what was going on, the cold feeling of dread worsening in the pit of his stomach, Harry looked around the cavern, taking in what he hadn't seen before. A whimper attracted his gaze to a spot not far from the Death Eaters, and his eyes widened in horror.

A small girl who couldn't be older than seven sat on the ground, her hands and feet tied and a gag in her mouth. She was huddling close to a large animal that Harry couldn't believe he hadn't noticed before – a silver coated unicorn. It hadn't made so much as a sound since he'd suddenly arrived here. He whipped around once more as Voldemort's voice started increasing in volume.

"_Bring the beast,_" he hissed, sending another jolt of pain through Harry's head, and one Death Eater stepped forward, going over to the unicorn and picking up the rope around its neck. He led it to Voldemort, the animal showing no signs of struggle at all but rather looking resigned, as though it knew what was going to happen. Harry cried out as Voldemort picked up the sword.

The unicorn turned its head around so that its intelligent eyes met Harry's horrified gaze before the Death Eater yanked it back into place, jerking its head back so that its neck was held over the clay bowl.

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In one swift stroke, Voldemort swiped the long blade across its throat, thick silver blood pouring and splashing into the bowl. The little girl behind Harry screamed. He ran over and knelt down in front of her, trying to block her view of what was happening even as the sick feeling in his own stomach intensified to the point of retching. She stared through him, still screaming. He tried to hug her, comfort her, anything, but just went through again.

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Three words issued out of Voldemort's slit of a mouth that chilled Harry to the bone.

"_Bring the girl_."

"NO!" Harry yelled, his face contorted in anguish as his scar exploded in pain. He scrambled to his feet, fury coursing through his veins, and ran at Voldemort. "NO, NO, _NO!_" He lunged at him, flew through the man's body and tumbled to the rocky ground on the other side, skidding painfully. He didn't notice the scrapes, but instead leapt to his feet and charged again, trying unsuccessfully to beat at the sides of the monstrous man. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS, IT'S NOT RIGHT, IT'S NOT _RIGHT!_" he screamed. "YOU SICK BASTARDS! YOU CAN'T _DO THIS!_"

The girl was being dragged forward by two Death Eaters, crying hysterically as she struggled in their grip. Huge sobs racked her small frame. Everything was moving too quickly and yet in slow motion. The two Death Eaters held her in position, then muttered words that locked her feet in place with a flick of a wand. They moved away to rejoin the other three standing in a silent line at the edge of the room.

Voldemort was cleaning the sword.

With a great shuddering gasp, the girl stopped crying and looked up at something that wasn't there. Her eyes followed nothing until she was looking at something right beside her, then leaned slightly to her right as if resting her head. She half-closed her eyes as more tears poured down her cheeks, silent now, and sighed.

The shadows in the room rushed in to engulf everyone, crashing up as if they were a wave hitting a breakwater when they reached the altar. They flowed back out to the edges of the cave, the torches flickering ominously as the Death Eaters murmured uneasily. Voldemort's eyes narrowed darkly, and he yanked the girl forward, leaning her over the bowl that already contained silver unicorn blood.

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She didn't struggle, but let out a cry as Voldemort lifted his deadly blade and slit her throat without mercy, holding her head back so that her life's blood poured, as the unicorn's had, into the bowl, mixing with the thick silver liquid already there. Harry screamed and fell to his knees, his head feeling as if it were about to split apart, hands clutching his scar. When he drew them away, they were covered with blood.

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Hot liquid trickled down his face, mixing with his salty tears. He looked up with blurred vision through his messy black hair, livid as hell. Voldemort set down the sword and dipped his long, bony finger into the mixture of the silver and crimson bloods.

"Innocence," he said softly, licking it off and sneering. "Disgusting."

The Death Eaters laughed nervously as Harry got to his feet, tears still flowing freely with the trickles of blood from his scar. He stepped forward and drew back his fist, pouring all the rage he felt into one solid punch that he knew Voldemort wouldn't feel anyway.

For a split second, however, there was resistance, then his hand passed through.

Voldemort's head snapped back. He cried out in surprise, lifting his hands to his face and staring incredulously at the small amount of blood from his nose. He whipped around furiously, searching for the invisible someone that had punched him. Harry backed up, gasping in astonishment, then felt a surge of triumph, knowing that he had at least some small satisfaction. Nothing would ever make up for killing a little girl, though. Nothing.

"Who's there?" Voldemort hissed as the Death Eaters rushed forward, hands splayed out in front of them. Harry stayed out of their way just in case, but Voldemort would not be distracted from whatever ritual he was completing. "Enough!" he cried, and the Death Eaters hurried back to their places.

With a cruel smile, he lifted the large stone feather and dipped it into the bowl.

PAIN –

Ron's eyes flew open and he sat up in bed, breathing hard. His whole body was tingling strangely. The sudden burst of energy that had woken him appeared to have affected the others in the dormitory, as well; as he threw back the curtains, Seamus, Dean and Neville all did the same, staring wide-eyed at each other.

It was then that they noticed that almost everything in the room was floating in midair. Seamus yelped as he tried to hold his trunk down to the floor, and unlocked it by accident. Various items of clothing rose up out of it and hovered unsteadily. Dean laughed. "What's going on?"

"Are you all okay?" Neville asked nervously. "I'm tingling all over –"

"So am I," said Ron and Dean at the same time, while Seamus tried to collect his clothes. A white, lacy bra floated out of his grasp and the others could see him blush red even in the darkness.

"Where did _that_ come from?" he choked, trying to snatch it back, but it drifted out of reach and up to the ceiling. The other three laughed.

"Whose is it then, eh?" Dean chortled as he collected his books and put them underneath his bed. "Go on, tell us."

"I still want to know what's going on. What was that – jolt thing?" Neville asked as he grabbed for his teddy bear that had floated up to the canopy of his bed while holding down a potted plant with his other hand. Ron shrugged.

"I dunno. What do you think, Harry? Harry?" he said, noticing for the first time that Harry's was the only bed with the hangings still shut. "Harry, you awake?" he said more loudly as the other three looked over as well, wearing puzzled expressions.

Ron left his chess set underneath the covers, which were tied to the bedposts, and crossed over to Harry's bed. "He can sleep through anything," he chuckled over his shoulder at the other boys, who laughed as well. He was still looking at them as he pulled back the drapes, and then turned around to shake his friend into consciousness. Instead he let out a yelp and jumped, startled, then peered closer.

"What?" asked Dean. Ron shook his head.

"Harry? What's wrong, mate? _Harry?_" he said, waving his hand in front of his friend's face.

Harry was sitting bolt upright in his bed, the covers thrown aside. He wasn't wearing a shirt. His eyes were wide open but were focused on something far away. He was extremely pale, almost stark white in the darkness, and every muscle was tense, his fists clenched.

A dark substance slightly stained the sheets where his knees and shins were. Ron leaned forward and smelled it – blood. He glanced back at Harry, frowning. Where had the blood come from? As he looked, his gaze followed the thin, dark path up his friend's face, originating from the almost pulsing scar on his forehead. It was bleeding. If Ron ignored the top part of it, it would seem as though Harry had cried a single, bloody tear.

"Someone," he said in a quiet voice, "go get McGonagall."

"Why? What's wrong with Harry?" Neville asked nervously. Ron didn't take his eyes from Harry's scar.

"G_o get McGonagall_," Ron said, more tensely than before. Neville came over and peered around him, eyes widening at the sight.

"Oh, Merlin –"

"GO GET MCGONAGALL!" Ron roared, and Neville jumped back, stumbled over his own feet in his haste, and scrambled out the door as fast as he could. Seamus and Dean hurried over and looked at Harry, then at each other.

"W-why's he bleeding?" Seamus asked shakily, and Ron shook his head, still unable to tear his gaze from the single trickle of blood, still flowing down Harry's face.

"I have no idea. I have _no idea_."

"This can't be normal, can it?" Dean asked, and Ron whirled on him.

"No, of course it's not normal! _It's not normal! _I don't know what's wrong with him, I don't get it any more than you do. Maybe he just banged his head when he sat up, he's obviously dreaming –"

"But what about his legs?"

"_I don't know! Maybe a troll bit them! _Harry, wake up!" Ron shouted, and grabbed Harry's bare shoulders to shake him awake. Instantly his hands were burning, burning, _burning_ –

Ron recoiled, yelling hoarsely. He stared at his still stinging palms – they were red. He looked, horrified, back up at Harry, wincing every time his hands moved.

McGonagall burst into the room, still wearing her long scarlet night robe over a white gown, looking alarmed. She strode swiftly over to Harry's bed and threw back the hangings on the other side, across from Ron, Seamus and Dean. Hermione ran in after her, also in her nightgown, and sprinted towards the bed. Neville closely followed her, hurrying over as well.

"What's going on here? Everyone, stand back please!" McGonagall barked, leaning forward to examine Harry.

"Don't touch him!" Ron yelled. She drew back quickly, and looked for an explanation. "He burns," Ron said shakily, showing her his hands. Hermione gasped. McGonagall looked more troubled than before, and slowly started forward again to look into Harry's face. His too-pale body shook with the tiniest of quivers, making everyone there flinch. He shook again, and again, and started having small convulsions as the rest of them watched in increasing horror.

The expression on his face changed slightly, looking confused, and then afraid, still unseeing. Suddenly he hunched over, as though he'd been punched in the stomach, still shaking slightly. Everyone leaned closer, almost involuntarily. Hermione hesitantly reached her hand out to him.

"Harry ... ?"

He whipped up, his chest arching forwards, his head thrown back, fists clenched so tightly they began to bleed. His face was one of someone in agony. He was screaming, screaming desperately, with no sound issuing out of his open mouth. All this happened in a split second – everyone jumped backwards with a cry. Hermione shrieked.

He took in a great, shuddering gasp of breath and seemed to come back to the present, looking around wildly. McGonagall, Ron and Hermione all lurched forward urgently. "Harry!" Ron cried, and his friend tried to focus his gaze. Harry stared at Ron, but seemed to still be looking straight _through_ him.

Tears fell down his cheeks, mixing on one side with the blood from his scar. He coughed twice, and then his eyes rolled back in his head so that they could only see white. He slumped back onto the pillows, unconscious. Hermione screamed. She tried helplessly to stem the terrified tears that were now streaming from her own eyes, and Ron, displaying a tremendous sense of thoughtfulness, put his arm around her.

McGonagall, looking horrified, pulled herself together and touched Harry's arm. His skin still radiated heat but didn't burn fiercely as it had for Ron. She pulled out her wand and conjured a stretcher out of thin air, levitating Harry's limp body onto it and laying him flat. Hermione and Ron walked around the bed and looked at the professor.

"Please, Professor – may we come?"

McGonagall looked sharply at them and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I will send someone up to inform you of his condition as soon as it has been determined," she said, and turned on her heel to walk hastily out of the room, Harry floating along just behind her. Ron and Hermione looked at Neville, Dean and Seamus. They were all visibly shaken.

"Now what?" Neville squeaked. The rest shrugged.

"I don't know," Hermione said quietly, voicing it for all of them. "I don't know."


	15. Aftermath

**Disclaimer: Bah.**

**A/N: HI. How y'all doin'? I'm back. FINALLY. As is guess who. Slavemaster Meg, for those of you who are a little slow. NOT saying that any of you ARE. But maybe. :D Love you! Kissies!**

* * *

Dumbledore was pacing in his room.

He had listened to Alan Grathcher's message hours ago, and had sent dispatches out to other members of the Order immediately, informing them of Voldemort's most recent doings. He had a sneaking suspicion of what the man – if you could call him a man – was going to do with the Angevellius Key. The white opal feather was among the more powerful magical objects in the world, and was most often used for healing purposes. Was Voldemort trying to gain immortality again through the Key?

Worry, worry, worry! That's all he seemed to ever do anymore, worry. He had sent out Aurors to Vatican City to snoop around and find out anything they could, but there had been no word yet. It had only been a few hours; he couldn't assume the worst until he had been given a basis to it. So Dumbledore paced. And worried.

If only he could actually assign Harry, Ron and Hermione to the task. Of course that was preposterous and out of the question, but they did seem to have a knack for finding things out that they weren't meant to. When their curiosities were roused about something that they thought concerned Voldemort, there was no stopping them until they found out what it was. If only they could apply themselves like that to their schoolwork (in the boys' case, at least), they would be at the top of their grade in Hogwarts.

He smiled slightly to himself at the thought. They would discover information about it on their own anyway, he knew. Grathcher had mistook Ron for Dumbledore himself – the disguise _was_ rather convincing – and told him that the Angevellius Key had been stolen by Voldemort. Within days, the three teenagers would be close to finding out what it was, Dumbledore was sure. After that, it would likely be that they would want to know more about its uses, and what the dark lord could possibly want from it.

"Ah, the young and inquisitive mind," he said to himself.

A force surged through him, making him stumble backwards a step and filling his old body with a strange tingling sensation that he had felt some times before in his long life. He knew that the entire school was probably now awake and tingling as well, and depending on the magnitude of the summoning, the whole country could be.

A few seconds later, a head popped into his fire.

"Headmaster, what's going on?" asked Professor Sprout. She looked worried. "I just woke up suddenly, and I'm prickling all over."

"Come up to my office, please, Ivy. I'm calling a teachers' meeting."

"Yes, sir," said Sprout, and she disappeared. Almost immediately Flitwick's head came into view in her place, also looking confused.

"Headmaster –"

"Yes, I know. Please come up to my office, I'm calling a teachers' meeting."

"Righto," said Flitwick, also disappearing.

Dumbledore sighed heavily and massaged his temples, then called Fawkes to his arm. Explaining softly what he wanted the bird to do, it nodded in perfect understanding and flew gracefully into the fire, flames engulfing it promptly as it disappeared.

He sank down into an armchair by the hearth and stroked his long beard absently. It had become a bit of a habit when he was distracted.

Snape entered first, black nightrobe billowing out behind him as all his clothing seemed to do. He was frowning darkly. Dumbledore didn't rise when he came, but looked up. "What is going on?" Snape said in a low, curt tone.

"I will explain when the other Heads of Houses are present as well. Please, sit. Toffee?"

Snape declined with just a slight upturning of his pronounced nose, and sat down on the edge of another chair, staring intently into the fire. Sprout and Flitwick came in together. "Hello, Headmaster," said Sprout.

"Any idea what happened?" Flitwick added anxiously, and Dumbledore waved for them to sit.

"We will wait for Minerva to join us, and then I shall explain. Make yourselves comfortable, have a toffee."

They both accepted a small brown candy and popped them into their mouths. They waited for about fifteen minutes, growing more and more restless but not complaining, until Snape looked at Dumbledore impatiently.

"Albus, she is obviously not coming, and I would very much like to know what is going on."

"Patience, Severus. Fawkes will return soon with the reason for Minerva's delay, which I'm sure will be excellent."

As the words left his mouth, the phoenix burst out of the flames and lighted on Dumbledore's knee. He removed the short note attached to the bird's leg and read it quickly. A deep frown creased his face as his eyebrows snapped together. He stood up.

"Harry Potter is in the hospital wing. He suffered some minor convulsions a few minutes ago, and collapsed. His scar is bleeding. If you will excuse me?" he said gravely, and strode swiftly out of the room, leaving the three professors shocked in his office.

Snape caught up with him on the way to the infirmary. "I still don't understand what is going on here, Headmaster," he said tersely. "Regardless of Potter's state, I should think that informing us of our current situation would be the top priority here."

"I don't know exactly how, I don't know why, and I don't know where, but someone – I have reason to believe that it was Lord Voldemort – summoned a creature of immense power to him. I believe that the force of the magic that opened the portal is what is causing the prickling sensation. That is all I know. I am going to see to Harry now. Severus, if you wish to join me, by all means do."

Snape snarled to himself but didn't fall back, instead continuing on beside the Headmaster, matching his fast pace stride for stride.

Dumbledore pushed open the doors and burst into the hospital wing, going immediately to Madame Pomfrey. "Where's Harry?"

"Right over here, sir," she said hurriedly, looking frightened. "I've never seen anything like it," she continued, following him over to Harry's bedside. "Professor McGonagall said when she brought him in that he was burning up like a dragon's fire, but now he's cold as ice."

On cue, McGonagall rushed out from the back of the room behind some screens. "Headmaster!" she cried. Dumbledore was leaning over Harry by now and was peering closely, inspecting for visible damage. Other than the fact that his scar was still bleeding and his hands and knees were bandaged, there was none.

"Tell me everything," he said urgently.

"I had been woken up by the...that strange occurrence, and I went to the common room because of the...students, to calm them down. Longbottom came running down – he said something about Harry, something was wrong with Harry. So I went up – I went up – and, well..."

Dumbledore looked at her expectantly. "And?"

"He was sitting up in his bed, all rigid and stiff. His eyes were open wide – he was staring at something in front of him, but none of us could see it. And he looked – oh, Albus – he was terrified. Of course his scar was bleeding and his hands were scraped. Then he started shaking, he screamed without making a sound..."

"What?"

"Well he looked like he was screaming...but there wasn't any noise...and then he fainted. Oh, and Weasley's hands were burned when he touched Potter's skin."

"Burned? Where is he now?"

Madame Pomfrey gestured hastily over to the bed next to Harry's, separated by a screen. "I treated him, it should be fine soon."

"Good. What happened then, Minerva?"

"Well, I put Potter on a stretcher and brought him down here. Weasley followed me because of his hands...and that's all I know."

"First he was burning, now he's freezing..." Dumbledore said, reaching out and touching Harry's forehead with one long finger. An abrupt burst of cold shot up into his hand and up through his arm to his head, making him recoil and clutch his temples in pain. Snape, McGonagall, and Madame Pomfrey all leaned forward in alarm.

"What's wrong?"

Dumbledore groaned slightly and squinched his eyes shut. "Brain freeze," he said tightly. After a few seconds he looked up at the teachers. "If you've ever drunk a Muggle slushie all in one go, you'll understand what I mean."

"Oh, ouch," said Madame Pomfrey, wincing.

"What on earth could be causing these hot and cold flashes?" McGonagall asked, determined to bring the conversation back to explaining what was going on. Dumbledore shook his head to clear it and straightened up.

"I have a theory – it could be bunnies!" he cried.

Everyone stared blankly at him. A tired voice rose from behind the screen.

"And what's with all the carrots? What do they need such good eyesight for anyway?" Ron asked, and then emitted a loud snore.

"Exactly!" Dumbledore agreed. McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Are – are you quite all right, Albus?"

"Do you want to lie down?" Madame Pomfrey asked worriedly. "Perhaps the stress is getting to you –"

"No, no, I'm fine. I really don't know where that came from. But truly, I have a theory about what caused the odd sensation everyone was left with. Has it worn off on anyone here yet?" The other teachers shook their heads. "Nor on me..."

"Albus, if I may, I'd like to suggest that perhaps it was a Mehrfach Cancello Potion," Snape said quietly, speaking for the first time. "I've been thinking about it and the symptoms would be similar in a case such as this, but less widespread. If the Dark Lord has summoned something from another world...he would have had to use one."

"Less widespread...how far do you think this has gone?" Dumbledore asked.

"There's no way to tell right now," Snape said gravely, "but if it's just within the school, then the Dark Lord must be here."

In the split second of horrified silence that followed, all the glass in every window of the hospital wing exploded.

Harry screamed.

His eyes flew open, lurching into consciousness and sitting bolt upright in the bed. The pain in his head was excruciating, but paled in comparison to the horror in his mind. All he could think about was the girl, the little girl that Voldemort had _murdered_ –

"_NO!_" he cried. He was screaming, screaming until his voice became hoarse. Around him the three professors and healer were frantically trying to protect themselves from the flying shards of shattered glass, but he didn't even notice they were there. He didn't take in his surroundings, didn't even register that he was in the hospital wing or that there was glass everywhere. The image of the girl's face as Voldemort pulled her head back and lifted the sword was burned into his eyes, permanently imprinted on his brain –

"HE _KILLED HER!_"

"What!" Dumbledore cried, looking up from his arms. "Who!"

Harry didn't hear him. He stared around frantically with wild eyes. Something was obstructing his vision – everything was blurry and unfocused. For the first time since he'd fallen asleep hours ago, he was aware of his surroundings. Where was he? From what he could see, it was a large room – the Great Hall? Not big enough – there were green curtains around him – the hospital wing then. His head hurt enough to make him think it was about to split apart.

Suddenly Dumbledore's hazy face appeared in front of him and he felt something grip his arms. The old man's mouth moved but it was only meaningless babble underneath the roaring in Harry's ears. He shook his head and pleaded with the Headmaster to understand. "He _killed her_, and the unicorn's dead too, and the blood and the blood and the blood and the bl-"

The words wouldn't come anymore. Another indistinct figure came up beside him and tapped him on the top of his aching head. A splash of coolness washed over him from the spot, slightly diminishing the roaring but not helping with his sight. Dumbledore was still trying to say something but Harry couldn't hear it. He was panicking – why couldn't he hear anything? Why couldn't he see –?

Someone slipped something onto his face – he felt cold metal along his temples and behind his ears – his glasses. Oh. He could see again. He blinked and registered the fact that McGonagall was standing over him and had just put them on. He wanted to thank her but his mouth wouldn't move. There was a crashing noise from around the curtains – and yelling. People were yelling. The roaring was fading and people were yelling. Nothing made any _sense_ –

"–OW! Goddammit, woman, don't drop me!"

It took a few seconds but Harry recognized that voice...

"I _didn't_ drop you! You _clearly_ tripped over your own feet!"

"I CAN'T SEE!"

"And that is my fault HOW!"

The teachers around him tore back the curtains to see who was coming into the hospital wing. Harry already knew two of them. Now that he had his glasses on, he could watch as Elendil stumbled into the room, supported by Blackstorm and Moonshine. The silver-haired man was having a yelling match with the former of the two women.

"What is going on here?" Dumbledore asked loudly. Elendil looked up in his direction, and Harry got a good look at the man's eyes. They were completely silvered over. The irises and pupils were gone, absorbed into the silver colour that made up the whites of Elendil's already unnatural eyes. As the party of three entered the room, he cursed loudly.

"SHIT! What the hell's all this broken glass doing everywhere! That's a bloody health hazard! And in a _hospital_ wing! Really!"

"_Reparo_!" cried McGonagall, pointing her wand at a window. A million glass shards jumped up from the floor and fit themselves back together into the windowpane. She repeated the charm for the rest of the windows, and soon there was no glass left.

"What's wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

"I'm blind!" Elendil promptly replied. "I woke up tingling and couldn't see a thing. It's rather annoying, actually, I don't like it much."

"Lie down please," trilled Madame Pomfrey, hurrying over and grabbing his arm.

"GAH! _Warn_ me when you touch me!" Elendil yelped, but complied, allowing her to lead him over to a hospital bed and lie him down. The five professors in the room all clustered around the bed, leaving Harry sitting on his own.

"We'd better examine him..."

"What could have caused it?"

"I don't know..."

Their voices blended and swirled through Harry's mind. His eyes rolled back. All he could hear was the girl's screaming and all he could see was her tears, mixing with silver blood.

Then there was blackness, and he was left alone with a splitting headache and the image of her dull eyes, empty of the glint that signified life.


End file.
